


Can't Take the Heat?

by Ilovesocks_24



Series: Carbonara Mondays [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison has kinda jumped off the deep end, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, And carbonara, Bacon makes the world go 'round, Derek is like Gordon Ramsay/Simon Cowell/Piers Morgan all rolled up into one, Erica is easily the most attractive, Fluff and Crack, How did this turn into chopped/iron chef america, Like he's really mean., Lots of culinary sexual innuendos, M/M, No for real, Restaurant!AU, Scott and Isaac are adorable, Stiles is the newest sous chef, Writing this made me kinda hungry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 55,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilovesocks_24/pseuds/Ilovesocks_24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> “Hi, I’m Stiles, and what I have for you today is…”</em>
</p><p>  <em>“Stop, just stop.” Grumpy Eyebrows interrupted. “That is honestly the worst looking Pasta Primavera I have ever seen. I don’t even want to eat it, it looks so bad.” </em></p><p>  <em>Stiles narrowed his eyes. No one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara without even trying it. And no one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara after they tried it either. </em></p><p>  <em>“It’s actually a Creamy Bacon Carbonara, asshole,” Stiles snapped. “And for the record, it’s supposed to look like that.” <em></em></em><br/><em><br/><em>Or the one where Stiles is a new sous chef at Full Moon Steakhouse and Derek is the Gordon Ramsay of all head chefs. So of course they fall in love.</em></em><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carbonara

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom is slowly ruining my life. And I don't care.

_Looking for a sous chef. Restaurant experience not required. Must have a degree from a valid culinary school. Must be able to cook several variations of steak. Starting salary $20.00 an hour. Hours negotiable._

_Please contact Laura Hale for details._

“Nope.” Stiles smirked, shaking his head. “No way am I good enough to work at Laura Hale’s restaurant. There’s a reason that Full Moon Steakhouse has won ‘Best Restaurant in Beacon Hills’ for the past four years. I know what the requirements are, every chef there has to have been cooking since before they were born.”

“Stiles, come on,” Lydia coaxed. “The least you can do is apply. Twenty bucks an hour? That’s pretty good for a sous chef that’s fresh out of culinary school. At least call her. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

That was Lydia. Ever the optimist. There was a reason she was Stiles’ agent. Finding a job in the culinary field was more cutthroat than showbiz. Every person fresh out of school was eager to prove that their version of _Eggs Benedict_ was better than the rest.

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t as cutthroat as showbiz, but without an agent selling your cooking skills, you were pretty much doomed to work behind the grill at Denny’s for the rest of your life. Not that Denny’s was a bad thing; except Stiles didn’t waste three years of his life in culinary school just to make Lumberjack Slams all day. At least put him at IHOP, their pancakes were world famous.

Culinary school competiveness even got to the point where during final examinations people would try and sabotage other dishes. Stiles literally had to stab someone with his tongs to keep them from putting extra salt on his short ribs.  It was chaotic. But that’s what getting a culinary degree meant to some of these people.

Stiles was one of them.

But he would never sabotage someone else’s dish to try and prevent them from getting their degree. (Okay, he might’ve switched Greenburg’s balsamic vinegar with red wine, which would explain why Greenburg’s homemade salad dressing didn’t taste quite right. But Greenburg was a dick and he deserved it.)

“They could tell me no and laugh at me that I had the audacity to try and fill their sous chef position. Lydia, I don’t even make steaks that well. The listing clearly says, ‘be able to make a variety of steaks.’ The best I can do there is Salisbury, Savory and Teriyaki. My specialty is Italian Cuisine. You know as well as I do that Italians don’t eat that much steak.” 

Lydia rolled her eyes and smacked Stiles upside the head. “You’re a good chef Stiles. You’re versatile. Even if you can only make three kinds of steaks, applying would be good for you. Maybe Laura won’t want you, but she might know someone that is looking for an Italian specialist. Just call Laura and ask about the opening, it would be good experience for you. And who knows, you might just get the job.”

“Fine,” Stiles grumbled. “But no promises.”

*** 

And that’s the beginning of the story of how Stiles was standing in the kitchen of Full Moon Steakhouse at eight in the freaking morning in line with six other potential sous chefs, listening to Laura Hale go over the instructions for the day.

“Thank you all for applying to be sous chefs here at Full Moon _,_ I looked over your resumes and I’m very impressed with some of them. Unfortunately we only have one opening for a sous chef, which means only one of you will get a call back.” She clasped her hands together and looked down the line. “So, in the interest of fairness, and because a resume can only tell me so much, I’ve decided to have a cook off.”

Stiles frowned. A cook off? That was absolutely not what he had been expecting. He thought maybe he would interview, maybe whip up a steak or two later in the afternoon, but he definitely had not been expecting to be cooking this early in the morning.

“You have full access to whatever you can find in the kitchen. You all read the application ramifications, so I’m sure you can all make steak. However I want to see what dish defines you as a chef. Make whatever you feel most comfortable with and you think will showcase your style the best. You have forty-five minutes. And Go.”

It was a mad rush as all seven of them rushed to open fridges and cabinets and drawers to try and find anything they could possibly use.

 _It’s like Iron Chef America in this kitchen,_ Stiles thought as he elbowed his way to the pasta cabinet.

The fact that he didn’t have to make steak right off the bat, worked very much to his advantage. Full Moon Steakhouse was famous nationwide for how delicious their steaks were, and Stiles didn't need Laura to know that his 'variety' of steaks was limited to three. However, Stiles was a master of all things pasta, thanks to his emphasis in Italian cuisine. He decided to do his version of a creamy bacon carbonara. It had double the bacon and extra butter and whipping cream, instead of eggs. He figured if someone was going to eat comfort food, it better be pretty fucking comforting. Stiles had perfected it during his time in culinary school and it was a bit of a signature dish for him. If he couldn’t win a cook-off with his carbonara, then he couldn’t win at all. 

Stiles quickly grabbed all the ingredients he needed. Thankfully most of the other sous chefs were grabbing things like pork loin, lobster, racks of lambs and whole chickens, leaving Stiles to raid the pasta cabinet. Stiles watched in awe as one of the more confident sous chefs beheaded, scaled and fileted a trout in less than twenty seconds. Stiles’ eyes widened, competition was fierce.

He managed to find a stove in between Aquaman, destroyer of trout, and another sous chef who was doing terrible things to a chicken. Stiles quickly started heating up a pot of water for his noodles, while taking out a frying pan to start the bacon. 

“So what are you making?” Stiles asked Aquaman. He couldn’t help it, he was a talker, always had been, always will be. It had gotten him into trouble a couple of times in culinary school. Stiles had a nasty habit of trying to make conversation while pastry chefs were working with blowtorches. That was a crisis very nearly avoided. When Aquaman didn’t answer and continued hacking away at the poor trout, Stiles quickly shut up. 

 _Ok, no more games,_ Stiles thought. _If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen._

After his non-altercation with Aquaman (you couldn’t really call it an altercation because Aquaman didn’t say anything. He just kept killing the already dead trout) Stiles immersed himself in his cooking. Cooking just lifted his spirits; he loved creating something delicious out of things that weren’t delicious on their own. He was so lost in his carbonara that he almost missed the time warnings that Laura was giving out. 

“Five minutes left,” Laura called.

Stiles nodded as he began plating his dish. Laura had instructed them to make enough for six people, so he suspected that Laura wouldn’t be alone in her decision of who would be the new sous chef.

“Thirty seconds left.” Laura called.

Stiles looked up and saw that four additional people had joined Laura at her table. One of them had really curly hair with a cute face, complete with adorable blue eyes and a friendly smile. He looked like one of those child TV stars turned models. His face was that beautiful. Sitting next to him was another guy with a crooked jaw line. His brown hair framed his face nicely and he was looking at blue eyes with a fond expression on his face.

They were obviously together.

Across from Crooked Jaw sat All-American Good Looks. Stiles could tell just by looking at him that the guy thought he was better than everyone else. Sitting next to him was Beautiful Blondie. She was _gorgeous_ , and she had this aura like she knew that _everyone_ wanted to get in her pants. She looked incredibly comfortable sitting around the table full of guys and Laura, like she was part of this boys’ club and no one was going to take her out.

There was an empty seat next to Laura, and Stiles had no idea who that could possibly belong to. Whoever it was had to be as attractive as the rest of the people at the table. Hopefully physical appearances weren’t criteria for being a chef here, because compared to the other model-esque figures at the table Stiles should just hang up his apron now. 

“While we’re waiting for my brother, I’d like to begin,” Laura spoke up. “So I’m going to call your name and you’re going to present your dish to the six of us,” she paused and looked across the room. “It’s about time you showed up.” 

Stiles turned his head at the direction Laura was facing, and had to pick his jaw up off the ground. Walking, no _stalking_ into the restaurant was easily the hottest guy that Stiles had ever seen. Sure the other people at the table were good looking, but _this guy_ took the cake. Everything about him was perfect. 

His black hair was styled perfectly, he had a beautiful layer of stubble coating his already perfect face and his eyes were the perfect shade of hazel-green. He had perfect eyebrows and they were turned down in a perfect grumpy scowl and suddenly Stiles really wanted to be a sous chef here.

“We don’t need a new sous chef Laura,” Grumpy Eyebrows growled. “I already told you I could handle it. You’re always trying to bring in someone new.”

And wow, Grumpy Eyebrows had a bad attitude. Maybe Stiles didn’t want to be a sous chef here after all. 

“Can it, baby bro,” Laura grinned as Grumpy Eyebrows sat down in between her and Beautiful Blondie. “These seven sous chefs have been slaving over hot stoves for the past forty-five minutes. The least you can do is give them some helpful criticism. And play nice, because one of them is going to be your new sous chef.”

Oh, so Grumpy Eyebrows was the head chef. It wasn’t exactly surprising. All of the head chefs at back at culinary school had been irritable and cranky, but none of them had been as attractive as Eyebrows over here.

“Fine, but I’m not playing nice. I’m going to be one hundred percent honest.”

“Fair enough,” Laura grinned, then she turned back to address Stiles and the rest of the sous chefs. “Um, I haven’t exactly put names to faces yet, so instead we’re just going to go down the line.” She smiled at the first chef, a small petite blonde girl, nowhere near Beautiful Blondie’s league.  “If you don’t mind?”

Stiles was very glad that he was the last one in the line. His creamy bacon carbonara was going to _slay_ Grumpy Eyebrows and the rest of the Attractive Brigade. These other dishes didn’t stand a chance.

“My name is Sophie, and what I have prepared for you is a succulent rack of lamb roasted in garlic and thyme. Enjoy.”

“This is terrible,” Grumpy Eyebrows growled as he took his first bite. “The lamb is way overcooked and there is entirely too much thyme on this. I have no idea where you got your degree from, but you need to go back and start over, because this is honestly the worst rack of lamb I have ever had. I can’t even finish it.” He pushed the lamb away from him and folded his arms across his chest, daring Sophie to say anything. 

Ok wow, Grumpy Eyebrows wasn’t pulling punches. Sophie looked like she was about to cry. 

“I kind of liked it,” Adorable Blue-Eyes said sheepishly. He ran a hand through his curls nervously, like disrespecting Grumpy Eyebrows’ judgment was a cardinal sin. “I thought it tasted pretty good.” 

“There’s a reason why you’re the host,” Grumpy Eyebrows shot back. “You’re supposed to stand there, look pretty and be friendly. Clearly you don’t know anything about lamb, because that was honestly terrible.” 

Blue-Eyes looked sad for a moment, but then brightened up when Crooked Jaw whispered something in his ear and kissed his cheek. All-American Good Looks mimed throwing up and Beautiful Blondie still looked beautiful. 

“Thank you Sophie,” Laura said sweetly. “Next.” 

One by one, the sous chefs lined up and presented their dishes to the lion’s den. No one was spared Grumpy Eyebrows’ wrath. 

“You call this pizza margherita? I’ve had better pizza from Domino’s. Was this some kind of joke? Did you really think that this was good enough to serve to people? I can’t believe that you would pass this off as gourmet. Maybe gourmet to homeless people.”

“That may have been the most atrocious lobster bisque I have ever tasted. It was like you took the lobster right out of the sewers of Boston, heated it in the microwave and put it on my plate. You’re a disgrace to your culinary school. ”

“So I’m a little torn with this dish. You said it was a baked pork loin, but it tastes like day old chicken nuggets from McDonalds. I don’t know if I want to try and throw it up now, or wait until later.” 

No one was safe. When Aquaman presented his magic trout to Grumpy Eyebrows and company, Stiles held his breath. It was about to be really good, or really bad.

“It’s not terrible,” Grumpy Eyebrows was saying as he chewed. “I think I would’ve liked the trout to be a little more buttery, but considering all the garbage I’ve had to swallow this morning, it’s almost delicious by comparison. Almost.”

“I didn’t like it,” Beautiful Blondie spoke up, as the rest of her attractive friends nodded in agreement. “I thought it was a little too rubbery.”

“I think all the seasoning took away from the natural flavor of the trout,” Crooked Jaw added. “It would’ve been better if he played off the flavor of the trout instead of trying to overpower it with spices.”

“I liked it,” Blue Eyes blushed. “I thought it was yummy.” God, Stiles just wanted to hold him and hug him and never let him go. He was so adorable.

“None of you know what you’re talking about,” Grumpy Eyebrows seethed. “There’s a reason why you’re all waiters and sous chefs. That was decent trout.”

“Dude the only reason you’re head chef is because Laura is your sister, and no one else wants to have to deal with all that cooking,” All-American Good Looks cut in. “Personally I’m fine being a pastry chef. But the trout wasn’t that good. Deal with it. There’s still one more dish left. Why don’t you focus on all the reasons that you’re going to hate it?”

Grumpy Eyebrows huffed and rolled his eyes, and in that moment Stiles was determined to rock this guys’ taste buds with his carbonara. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” Laura said to Aquaman. And of course his name would be Arthur. “And last but not least…?” She asked, looking at Stiles expectantly.

Stiles carefully laid all of his dishes out on the table, taking care not to look any of the Attractive Brigade in the eyes as he did so. When he finished he stepped back and started explaining his dish. 

“Hi, I’m Stiles, and what I have for you today is…”

“Stop, just stop.” Grumpy Eyebrows interrupted. “That is honestly the worst looking Pasta Primavera I have ever seen. I don’t even want to eat it, it looks so bad.” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. _No one_ insulted his creamy bacon carbonara without even trying it. And _no one_ insulted his creamy bacon carbonara _after_ they tried it either. 

“It’s actually a Creamy Bacon Carbonara asshole,” Stiles snapped. “And for the record, it’s supposed to look like that.”

A hush fell over the room. Blue-Eyes was looking at Stiles with a puppy dog expression and Crooked Jaw was doing the same. All-American Good Looks quirked an eyebrow, while Beautiful Blondie was eyeing Stiles up and down like a piece of meat. Laura was continuing to eat her pasta (score!), while Grumpy Eyebrows looked like he wanted to ring Stiles’ neck.

“As I was saying,” Stiles continued, matching Grumpy Eyebrows’ glare with a glare of his own. “What you have in front of you is a Creamy Bacon Carbonara. It’s a little bit different than the classic version, there’s double the bacon and you'll notice the sauce is composed of extra whipping cream and butter instead of eggs to give it that extra hearty taste. Enjoy.” 

“Do you have any more?” Adorable Blue-Eyes asked as Crooked Jaw vigorously nodded his head in agreement. “That was delicious.”

“I think I have a little bit more on the stove, I could check if…”

“Probably the best carbonara I’ve ever had,” All American Good Looks added, while Beautiful Blondie fixed Stiles with a look that made him rethink his sexuality. 

“I enjoyed it as well,” Laura smiled. “What did you think baby bro? Satisfactory?”

“No comment,” Grumpy Eyes frowned, but Stiles noticed that his plate was clean. He smirked to himself. Carbonara: 1 Eyebrows: 0.

*** 

Three days later he got a call from Laura. 

“Hi, is this Stiles?”

“Yes it is.”

“Hi Stiles, it’s Laura from Full Moon. We would love to have you as our new sous chef. Are you still interested in the job?” 

Stiles almost dropped the phone in excitement. Him? Stiles Stilinski working alongside the Attractive Brigade? Making $20.00 an hour doing what he loved? Getting to irritate Grumpy Eyebrows with his delicious Italian cuisine?

He’d be an idiot not to take that offer.

“I would love it.”


	2. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I never thought that this would get so much positive feedback. It's a little overwhelming. :)  
> I definitely felt the pressure to make sure that this chapter met your expectations. It's basically a filler chapter though, so I hope that's ok. I needed to establish a basic plot.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

A few days later, Stiles found himself in the employee lounge of Full Moon Steakhouse. And first off? Employee _lounge?_ Stiles was pretty sure at other restaurants there were break _rooms_ , with things like lockers and wooden benches. This lounge had leather chairs and couches and an espresso maker that was stocked with more flavors than Stiles had ever seen.

Stiles could definitely get used to working here. 

“Ok, thank you all for being here,” Laura spoke from the front of the lounge. “I know most of you would rather be sleeping, but we have some things to discuss.” 

Downside of being a sous chef at Full Moon Steakhouse? All of the staff meetings were at eight in the morning. Seriously it was like these people never slept. Cook all night and have meetings in the morning? Hopefully there was a hazelnut flavor for the espresso machine.  

“First of all, I’d like to welcome our new sous chef to our Full Moon Team. I’d like everyone to meet, Stiles Stilinski.”

Stiles reluctantly stood up from his very comfortable leather chair and did a quick wave to Laura and the other members of the Attractive Brigade. He tried smiling at Grumpy Eyebrows, but all he got was a scowl in return. 

“And I just realized that we never really introduced ourselves during the cook-off a couple of days ago,” Laura said. “So I guess we’ll just go around the room and say a little bit about ourselves.” 

“I’ll start,” she smiled. “My name is Laura Hale and I am the owner of Full Moon Steakhouse. I got my degree in Hospitality and Tourism Management from Stanford University and I took over Full Moon five years ago with my baby brother.”

“I’m Jackson,” All-American Good Looks said as Laura sat down. “I’m a pastry chef and a sous chef. I got my degree from Le Cordon Bleu Academy in London and my specialty is French Cuisine.”

“Name's Erica,” Beautiful Blondie smiled. Stiles was pretty sure she was giving him the eye too. It was seriously unfair that she could exude so much sex appeal and confidence at eight in the morning. He was busy rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while her beautiful cleavage was on full display. “I’m a waiter on weeknights and bartender on weekends. Went to bartending school in WeHo and have been rocking people’s worlds ever since.” 

Stiles didn’t doubt that for a second.

“My name is Scott,” Crooked Jaw said. “Isaac is my boyfriend and I’m a waiter here at Full Moon. I don’t really know how I got this job either. Laura kind of picked me out of a crowd at the mall and told me that I was going to work for her.”

Laura smiled, not denying a thing. Stiles nodded to himself, Laura looked like the kind of girl that knew exactly what she wanted and took it. Thankfully she had wanted him.

Yeah suck it Aquaman. Looks like your trout wasn’t that great.

“Um I’m Isaac,” Adorable Blue Eyes blushed. He was like the polar opposite of Erica. Where she looked like she wanted to fuck Stiles to exhaustion, Isaac looked like he wanted to build a blanket fort and cuddle Stiles in it. “I’m the host,” he looked over at Grumpy Eyebrows and smiled sheepishly. “My job is to look pretty and be nice to everyone.”

Grumpy Eyebrows snorted and nodded. And wow, dick much? Stiles had literally just met Isaac and he could already tell that he was the sweetest kid on the planet. And then Commander Grumpy of Starship Arrogant was treating him like a total low life.

All eyes on the room landed on Grumpy Eyebrows, who rolled his eyes _very_ dramatically (no really, someone get this man an Oscar because that was fantastic.) and stood up.

“I’m Derek, Laura’s brother, and I’m the head chef here at Full Moon. I’ve been cooking since I was twelve and I got my culinary degree at the Institute of Culinary Education in New York. My specialty is New York style cuisine mixed with a little bit of Mediterranean flair. I’m well known for my award winning New York Strip Steak.”

Stiles fought hard not to roll his eyes. His carbonara wasn’t award winning, but considering the way Derek had wolfed it down three days ago, he knew it wasn’t terrible.

And seriously, this dude talked about himself like he was the greatest chef on the planet. Stiles had read _Food Network Magazine_ and _Southern Living_ , he had never seen any mention of Derek’s ‘award winning’ New York strip steak. So it obviously wasn’t that great. 

Needless to say, Stiles wouldn’t mind stripping Derek down. Wouldn’t mind that at all.

“Great.” Laura smiled after Derek sat down. “So, I’m sure all of you know that the Beacon Hill Restaurant Awards are just around the corner. And I don’t need to remind any of you that Full Moon has been voted the best restaurant in Beacon Hills for the past four years. And you didn’t hear this from me, but if Silver Platter Bar and Brewery stop us from going five in a row, then I will cut a bitch.” 

“Wait what?” Stiles sputtered. “What are you talking about?” 

“Silver Platter Bar and Brewery is the _second_ best restaurant in Beacon Hills,” Erica smirked as she examined her nails. “For the past four years I might add. Their head chef is a total creep and his daughter, the sous chef, is a total bitch.”

“You’re losing me,” Stiles laughed. “I’ve been in culinary school for the past three years. I don’t know all the behind the scenes of the Beacon Hills restaurant world.” 

“Silver Platter Bar and Brewery is our main competition. It’s owned and operated by Chris Argent, who happens to be their head chef. He’s been in the restaurant business for the better part of twenty years. ” Derek said darkly. “His daughter, Allison, is his primary sous chef and she has a bit of a history with most of our staff.” 

“Yeah, she tried to seduce me for some of our recipes,” Scott added. “Plus she ‘accidentally’ stabbed Isaac two years ago. And Erica just flat out doesn’t like her.”

“She’s a bitch,” Erica replied pointedly. “Plain and simple. And I’ve told her to her face.” 

Apparently it wasn’t just finding a job in the culinary field that was cutthroat. Once you were in, it got even worse. Sure Stiles could maybe see some below the belt action for recipes here and there, but violence? Knives were for cutting meat not stabbing people.

“She stabbed Isaac?” Stiles gulped. “Really?” Stiles couldn’t see how anyone in their right mind could possibly want to do him any harm. His eyes were just too adorable.

“She just kind of slashed my side at the last cook off,” Isaac said softly. “Nothing life threatening. I think she was just bitter that she lost.” Scott pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and Erica ruffled his hair. Clearly the Attractive Brigade looked after their own. 

“But why?” Stiles asked. “No offense Isaac, but you’re as cute as a puppy.” Isaac beamed, confirming Stiles’ statement. “I don’t see why anyone would want to hurt you.”

“Because the Argent’s will do anything to win best restaurant,” Derek cut in grumpily. “They have a personal vendetta against Laura and I and they're determined to take us down. Clearly they’re not above bodily harm to my host, so we just expect the worse. If you can’t handle that, you’re welcome to leave now. We could find a new sous chef pretty soon, you wouldn’t be missed.”

Oh, ok hold the phone Grumpy. “I never said I wanted to leave,” Stiles shot back. Just because Derek was super attractive with the eyebrows and the muscles, didn’t mean that he could pressure Stiles into leaving. Stiles wasn’t quite a member of the Attractive Brigade yet, but he was planning on earning his way in. “I want to be a sous chef here, and I will do whatever it takes to help you win Best Restaurant for the fifth year in a row.”

“I appreciate that Stiles,” Laura smiled. “I’m going to let you and Derek get to know each other a little better since you’re going to be our two main chefs. Jackson is more of a pastry chef, and I want to talk with him about our new dessert menu.”

One by one the members of the Attractive Brigade walked out of the employee lounge, probably to go nap. Stiles hadn’t missed the way that Isaac had cuddled up against Scott during the majority of the meeting. And he hadn’t missed Erica’s yawns either.

“Play nice baby bro,” Laura smirked. “Now that we have Stiles as our new sous chef, I expect to see some of his best dishes on the revised menu, especially that carbonara. That was so delicious.”

“Whatever,” Derek muttered.

“So, um what do you want to do?” Stiles asked once they were the only two left in the lounge. “I’m a pretty fast learner, so I can pretty much pick up on whatever your signature dishes are. I’ve never really cooked a New York strip before; I’m more familiar with flank and skirt steaks. ” 

“You’re not cooking the steaks,” Derek shot back. “Especially not the New York strips. You just make whatever you’re good at. It was something with bacon right?” He got up and walked away like it was the end of the conversation. 

Which it totally wasn’t. As hot and grumpy as Derek was, Stiles was still determined to earn his respect as a chef. If anything he didn’t want to let Laura down, and he really wanted to beat Allison at the cook off because she stabbed Isaac.

It also may or may not have had anything to do with the fact that if Stiles got Derek to respect him as a chef then it would be easier for Stiles to get in Derek’s pants. 

And Derek totally knew that Stiles made carbonara. He had even gone back for seconds. He thought no one noticed, but Stiles knew when people when back for his carbonara. 

People always went back for more carbonara.   

“Dude,” Stiles retorted, grabbing Derek’s shoulder and whirling him around. “I don’t know what your deal is. You’re the head chef and I get that. I just don’t understand why you have to be a dick about everything. I do know that I’m your new sous chef. And I want to do the best I can. So I’m just asking for a little cooperation.”

Derek narrowed his eyes.

“You think just because you make one tolerable dish, you can just take command of my restaurant?” he asked icily. “You’re a sous chef here, you’re at the bottom of the totem pole. We could replace you like that.” He snapped his fingers in Stiles’ face for emphasis. 

“Write down your five best dishes, including your carbonara,” Derek said, handing Stiles a pad of paper and a pen. “We’ll see how the match up with the rest of the entrees and we’ll go from there.”

“Wait, what about the restaurant awards or whatever?” Stiles flailed. “I don’t even know how that works!” 

Derek sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The Beacon Hills Restaurant awards are the equivalent of the Oscars for local restaurants. Every head chef brings one sous chef and they compete against the other restaurants. Each duo makes two dishes; the dish of the day and a dish using a randomly selected ingredient. At the end, the dishes are judged and a winner is announced. It’s that simple.”

“Obviously, since you’ve won four years in a row.”

Stiles didn’t mean for it to sound sarcastic. He really didn’t. Evidently it came out far more sarcastic than he intended to, because the next thing he knew, Derek had shoved him against the wall and heavily encroaching on Stiles’ personal space. 

_Congratulations your Grumpy Eyebrows evolved into Angry Eyebrows! Would you like to give your new Angry Eyebrows a nickname?_

_Yes,_ Stiles thought. _Derek Hale._

“I swear to God, if you mess up during the awards, I will personally ruin your life,” Derek growled, inches from Stiles’ face. “And then Laura will kill you." 

“Got it,” Stiles squeaked. “Don’t screw it up.”

“Good,” Derek said, straightening Stiles’ shirt like he hadn’t been the one who messed it up in the first place. “Be back here this afternoon and we’ll start prepping for your first lunch shift. The awards aren’t for a while so we’ll have time to whip you into shape before then.”

He turned on his heel and left.

Stiles snorted. Derek acted like he hadn’t been salivating over his carbonara only three days prior. Working for the Full Moon Restaurant was going to be fun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I REALLY need a beta for this fic. I have a rough outline on where this is going to go, but I would really like it if I had someone else to let me bounce ideas off of. 
> 
> So if you're interested you can send me a message on my [ tumblr](http://superblanketman.tumblr.com/) It would really help me out and mean a lot! :)
> 
> And you can follow me there too if you would like. No pressure or anything. 
> 
> One more thing, like i said above I have a rough outline of this, but if there is something you'd like to see happen feel free to let me know in the comments or on tumblr. :)


	3. Initiation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Hey! 
> 
> Sorry for the wait! I've been really busy with summer school and moving. Hopefully I'll be able to post at least once a week from now on! 
> 
> Also, I have a wonderful beta, bookgodess15. Have you read her stuff? It's good. I would check it out! :)

Lunch shifts were hard. 

Stiles was beginning to wonder what Lydia had been thinking when she signed him up for this sous chef position. Somehow, Laura had been able to print and laminate all new menus, featuring all of five of the dishes that Stiles had given Derek earlier that day. 

Stiles had been making pasta nonstop for the better part of three hours. Of course he was used to cooking in pressure situations, but this was nothing like culinary school. Now he knew why the employee lounge had all the leather couches and chairs. Stiles wanted nothing more than to fall into one of those couches and never wake up. 

“Stiles, order for five more creamy carbonaras, two lasagnas and an order for meat ravioli,” Scott called from the front of the kitchen. “Derek, I need two bowls of New England clam chowder, a tri-tip medium well, and three more New York Strips.” 

Spoil alert, they had been working for three hours and Stiles had made twenty-eight orders of his carbonara and Derek had only made nineteen New York Strips. Not that Stiles was counting or anything. 

So much for world famous though. 

“Put the fucking orders on the rack, Scott,” Derek growled, but he was already grabbing bowls and spooning clam chowder into them. “You’ve been working here for three years. You should know this by now.” 

“Sorry, gotta run,” Scott called, as he quickly stuck receipts on the order rack. “The floor is swamped right now. Both Erica’s sections and mine are full, and Isaac is telling people up front that the wait is an hour. Word got out that the Carbonara is as good as the Strip Steak and people are coming in in hoards. I gotta get back out there.”

“Idiot,” Derek grumbled. He pulled his strip streaks out of the marinade and threw them in a skillet. The flames roared up from the pan, but Derek quickly shook them and added some olive oil to help them cook. Stiles watched as Derek moved around the kitchen. He had never seen someone look so sexy in an apron and covered in sweat. Of course he was comparing Derek to his overweight chefs in culinary school, but still Derek really was very attractive. “What time does Jackson come in today?” Derek asked as he started tenderizing the tri-tip. 

“I think he’s only coming in for dinner,” Stiles answered back. “He texted me to enjoy working the lunch shift and he would see me for dinner.” 

In reality Jackson texted Stiles not to fuck up on the lunch shift because it would put Derek in a bad mood for the dinner shift, but Stiles left that little detail out. So far Derek’s eyebrows were annoyed at best. He didn’t need the angry ones coming out thanks to a text from Jackson. 

“I’m going to rip his throat out and serve it to him,” Derek growled, expertly flipping his steaks. “What are the actual orders since Scott is too incompetent to list them by table?” 

Stiles started rattling off orders, and then he and Derek began arranging plates on serving platters, so Erica and Scott could deliver them to the tables. 

“Shit, I need to boil more noodles,” Stiles groaned, noticing that his supply of carbonana was dangerously low, and he was running out of lasagna. “How many more hours until break?” 

“You can take one in a few hours when we have a lull before the dinner rush,” Derek replied. “By the way your pasta’s way overcooked.” 

“Dude, the first thing they teach you in culinary school is pasta takes nine minutes to cook. It’s been eight minutes and forty-five seconds. I should be taking it out right. about. now.” Stiles made a big show of draining his pasta into the colander, taking care to make direct eye contact with Derek the whole time. 

“And not to be a dick or anything, but I’ve churned out way more pasta in the past couple of hours than you have steak. That should say something about how much people enjoy my cooking.” 

“Only because your section of the menu is new and it’s lunchtime,” Derek growled. “Everyone likes pasta for lunch. But just because people ordered it, doesn’t mean that they like it.” 

Of course at that moment, Isaac shuffled into the kitchen.

“Here Stiles,” he smiled, handing him three $20 bills. “One of the customers asked that this went directly to the chef of the lasagna. She said it was one of the best that she had ever had, and she was looking forward to ordering it again.” 

“Get out and host Isaac,” Derek growled. “I’m not paying you to come back and talk to Stiles.” 

“Sorry Derek,” Isaac smiled sheepishly. “I’ll see you during break ok Stiles?”

Stiles nodded and waved as Isaac exited the kitchen. Then he turned to Derek and flashed him a shit-eating grin. 

“So you were saying something about people not liking my pasta?” he asked, waving the money in Derek’s face. “These three Andrew Jackson’s beg to differ. And she didn’t even have the carbonara.” 

This time Stiles was trying to be sarcastic, and his efforts were rewarded with Derek slamming him into the fridge. 

“I feel like we’ve been here before,” Stiles grinned. He was inches from Derek’s face, and was taking note of how hot Derek looked. 

“You are a sous. chef,” Derek gritted out, putting extra emphasis on the words, ‘sous’ and ‘chef’. “Right now all you’re doing is making things you’re good at. So you should expect to get tips by making your specialty.” 

“I think someone’s just grumpy because people like my pasta more than they like your steak.” 

“Whatever,” Stiles grinned. “Let me go, I have to get back to my station. People are clamoring for my pasta and who am I to keep them waiting?” 

Derek huffed and released him. Stiles couldn’t keep the grin off his face. If lunch shifts were like this, he couldn’t wait for dinner.

“Take your break Stiles,” Derek said. “We’re going to close for about an hour to cool off before the dinner rush, take a nap, get some coffee, do whatever, but be back in the kitchens in an hour.” 

“Roger,” Stiles replied, wiping the sweat off his brow. Those couches in the break room had been calling his name. “I’m gonna take a nap.” 

Stiles wandered to the break room to find Isaac and Scott already lounging together on a couch. Scott was lying on his back and Isaac was sprawled out over the top of him. They both looked exhausted. 

“Hey Stiles,” Scott said. “How was your first day?” 

“Ridiculous,” Stiles answered, flopping into a chair. “I don’t think I ever want to make any more pasta in my entire life. I probably boiled more noodles in the past couple of hours than I have in my entire culinary career. That was ridiculous.” 

“Hey, but at least you made an easy sixty bucks,” Scott pointed out. “And on your first day too. I don’t think Derek has ever made that much off a flat tip.” 

Isaac hummed in agreement and yawned into Scott’s chest. Scott chuckled in response and ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s curls. 

“Dude what is that guys problem,” Stiles asked exasperatedly. “He’s a total hard ass in the kitchen. If he was even half as cuddly as the two of you then it would be another story, but he’s all growly and eyebrows all the time.” 

“He’s just like that when he’s doing something food related,” Scott yawned. “But outside of Full Moon he’s a total softy. When Isaac got slashed by Allison that one time Derek was over at our place for like a week straight making sure that Isaac was recovering ok.” 

“Yeah, and then he gave me double hosting duties for two weeks once I was ok again.” 

“He’s really protective of the people he cares about,” Scott yawned again. “It took us a while to warm up to each other, but I know he has my back and I have his. You just have to get used to it.” 

“I guess,” Stiles groaned, crossing his arms behind his head in preparation for a nap. “I just wish he wasn’t as much of a dick in the kitchen. It throws me off my mojo. I like to be relaxed when I cook.” 

“Well you’re never going to get Derek to cuddle with you,” Scott snorted. “But I think he likes you. I overheard him telling Laura that he was actually really impressed with your carbonara. And you’re definitely not going to be relaxed during the dinner shift. That’s when Derek is at his grumpiest. One time he literally screamed at Jackson because he overcooked the foie gras. It was scary.” Isaac sleepily nodded his agreements. 

They were probably the cutest couple Stiles had ever seen.

“Well I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Stiles yawned. Scott’s yawning had finally caught up to him. Whoever said that yawning wasn’t contagious was a liar. “I’m going to take a nap until dinner time.”

Stiles barely got forty-five minutes of sleep in before Derek was jerking him awake.

“Get up. Time for the dinner shift. And if you thought that lunch was bad then you’re in for a rough ride.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can come say hi on [ tumblr!](www.superblanketman.tumblr.com/)


	4. Dinner

Derek was absolutely right. The lunch shift had been pretty taxing, but it was _nothing_ compared to the dinner shift. Stiles was simultaneously boiling five pots of various kinds of pasta noodles, while plating his dishes and assisting Derek with the other parts of the menu.  

When Jackson wasn’t drizzling fruit purees and chocolate sauces on his delectable-looking desserts, he was working on appetizers and side dishes.

Scott and Erica were coming in with fresh orders every five minutes, and Isaac was constantly coming in the back to refill drink orders or grab complimentary glasses of champagne because the wait was so long.

Even Laura was working, occasionally taking orders out to the customers or helping Jackson with some of the side dishes and appetizers.

“How are you doing over here, Stiles?” Laura asked as she came over to his station. She dipped a spoon into his carbonara sauce and tasted it. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Stiles panted, wiping his hands with a dishtowel. “It’s going pretty well. I had no idea that you guys served so many people. I’m literally going to keel over in a couple of minutes.”

“We’re in the middle of the dinner rush,” Laura grinned. “6:30 to 8:30, is when we’re swamped. But I talked to Isaac out front and we might be in for a longer night than usual. Apparently the people who had your food for lunch, came back for dinner and bought all their friends. And of course since it’s a Thursday that means people are coming in for the Strip Steak Special.”

“What’s the Strip Steak Special?” 

“It’s just a strip steak that’s half price. It’s like our version of Happy Hour, but with steak instead of booze.” 

“So that explains why both Derek and I are working so hard,” Stiles snorted good-naturedly. Even though he was cooking nonstop, he was enjoying himself immensely. Cooking brought him joy and he was glad that he’d been able to snag this job. “It’s the Strip Special.”

“What do you need help with?” Laura asked. 

“Can you drain all my pasta while I plate some stuff? I’ve got like thirteen orders of carbonara to go out, plus some lasagnas, raviolis and meat rotini.” 

“Sure, sure,” Laura replied, patting Stiles on the back before draining his pasta into the colanders. “I’m gonna go see how Isaac’s doing up front. I’ll catch you back here in a little while. Oh, and Stiles? Thanks for taking this job. It really means a lot.”

“Of course,” Stiles said, raising an eyebrow.

Shouldn’t he be thanking her, though? She was the one who had given him the job and the opportunity to work at such a well-known restaurant. And it didn’t hurt that said restaurant had one of the hottest head chefs that Stiles had ever seen. 

Speaking of Derek, he seemed a lot more relaxed during the dinner shift than he had during the lunch shift, which was odd because he was cooking way more food. But he was definitely a lot more easy-going right now than he had been earlier today. He wasn’t exactly happy looking, but it looked like there was a fond expression on his face as he placed several strip steaks onto plates. 

“Scott, this is table four’s order, table eight’s order is over there. As soon as Jackson finishes up with the steamed asparagus table two’s order will be ready.” 

“Almost done,” Jackson called from the steamer. “Give me like thirty seconds and I’ll have it ready for you Derek.”

“Stiles, I need three carbonaras and a lasagna for table three’s order,” Derek .

“Coming right up,” Stiles replied. He quickly grabbed the food and set it on the tray in front of Derek. “Three carbonaras and a lasagna.”

“Thanks,” Derek said, nodding at Stiles and offering him a small smile. “Scott, come take these orders out!”

"You got it," Scott smiled, expertly balancing the trays on his hands and forearms and walking out to the floor. 

“What?” Derek said to Stiles, who was still standing there mouth wide open.

“You…. You said ‘thanks’ and you smiled at me?” Stiles grinned. “You haven’t done that since I started.”

“This is your first day here.” 

“Yeah, but you didn’t smile at me at all during the lunch shift. You slammed me against the cabinet and _growled_ at me.”

“That means he likes you,” Jackson called from where he was spooning fresh strawberries onto slices of shortcake.

“I can be nice sometimes.” Derek said. “Your pasta is about to boil over.” 

“Shit,” Stiles swore and ran over to stir away the excess bubbles When he looked back over at Derek, Derek had gone back to seasoning more strip steaks and putting them back on the stovetop.

“Well there’s a first time for everything I guess,” Stiles muttered, before turning his attention back to his pasta.

*** 

As the dinner rush started to die down, Derek and Stiles became less busy. It was getting late and more people were interested in having dessert and coffee instead of lasagna and steak. So Derek and Stiles were still cooking, albeit light cooking, while Jackson darted around the kitchen making all his desserts. 

Even though this was his first night working with Jackson, Stiles could already tell that he was a huge perfectionist when it came to desserts. Stiles offered to help him drizzle sauces and garnish with fruit, but Jackson vehemently refused.

“I got it Stilinski,” he said, not taking his eyes off the crèmes brûlées that he was blowtorching. “You have your Italian dishes, Derek has his steaks; I can handle the desserts.” 

“Just let it go,” Derek said, as Stiles was opening his mouth to reply. “He goes into dessert mode every night.” 

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” 

“Smiling,” Stiles replied, raising an eyebrow. “I get the sense that you don’t do that very often.”

“I know how to smile Stiles. I don’t know why you think I don’t.” 

“You made a girl cry because her lamb was overcooked. And you compared a girls pork loin to a day old McDonald’s chicken nugget.” 

“You didn’t have to eat them. I was just being honest.”

“Well you certainly don’t mince words when it comes to food,” Stiles grinned, leaning back against the countertop.

He liked this friendlier side of Derek. It was clear that Derek didn’t socialize much outside of the employees of the restaurant, so Stiles was glad that Derek was at least making an effort to try to talk to him. The conversation was still wary at best, because Stiles was still trying to avoid being slammed into another cabinet, but it was better than nothing.

Derek looked like he didn’t really know what to say, and of course Erica chose that exact moment to come into the kitchen.

“I have an order for a strip steak and a carbonara,” she announced, and then paused. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Derek and Stiles and a knowing smile appeared on her face. “Oh, am I interrupting something? I know it’s slowing down out there, but we don’t close for another thirty minutes.” 

Stiles’ mouth dropped open and Derek glared.

“I think Isaac needs some help out front,” Erica smirked. She flipped her perfect blond hair over her shoulders and sauntered outside of the kitchen. 

“She’s something else,” Stiles grinned, shaking his head fondly. Then he turned back to his station. “Okay… carbonara, carbonara.” 

“Can I watch?” Derek asked.

“What?” Stiles frowned. “Can you watch what?” 

“Can I watch how you make your carbonara?”

“I mean… sure,” Stiles sputtered. “But don’t you have to make a strip steak? I don’t think Jackson wants to be torn away from his desserts.”

Derek smiled softly and suddenly Stiles wished he did that way more often. “After about 8:45, I make about ten extra steaks and just stick them in the oven to warm. If people come this late, they can’t expect a fresh steak. But they won’t know the difference.”

“Devious,” Stiles grinned. “Okay, I guess I can tell you how I make my sauce, because that’s the only thing that differentiates my carbonara from other carbonaras.”

Stiles took Derek through the step-by-step process of his sauce-making regime. Surprisingly Derek didn’t make any snide remarks about his techniques or tell him he was doing things wrong. Instead, he asked questions and seemed very interested in the whole process.

“And we add a little bit of freshly shredded Parmesan cheese,” Stiles said, sprinkling the cheese onto the pasta. “And that’s that. One perfect creamy bacon carbonara ready to be consumed by the customer.”

Derek rolled his eyes and went to grab a strip steak out of the oven.

“You know, since I basically just walked you through my specialty dish, I expect to know how you make your strip steaks in the near future.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Derek said putting his steak and the carbonara on the tray and placing it into Erica’s waiting arms.

Isaac came in a little while later, telling them that the restaurant wasn’t taking any more new customers.

“So how did you like your first dinner shift, Stiles?” he asked. “Sorry it was a little busy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Stiles replied. He looked over his shoulder at Derek who was scrubbing saucepans. “I think I could definitely get used to working here.”


	5. Touching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Bookgodess15 for being the best beta out there. :)

It had been about a month since Stiles had started working at Full Moon Steakhouse. And according to Scott, Full Moon Steakhouse was arguably more popular than it had ever been now that Stiles was working there.

They were having another eight a.m. staff meeting. It was on a Monday, which was wonderful. Technically it was an eight a.m. key staff meeting since over the course of the month, Stiles realized that there were other employees other than Scott, Isaac, Erica, Derek and Jackson. However, the other employees didn’t really stand out as? much to Stiles, so he didn’t really care about them. As Erica had so eloquently put it, “If they’re not at the eight a.m. meetings, then they don’t matter.”

So apparently, Stiles mattered.

Because here he was.

At eight in the morning.

In the meeting.

At least the leather chairs were still comfortable after a month of Stiles literally falling into them after the dinner shifts. Stiles was pretty sure that Jackson had fallen asleep in his. 

“First off, congratulations to Stiles for surviving a full month of employment here,” Laura spoke from the front of the employee lounge.

Everyone broke into a small round of applause and Stiles rolled his eyes because they were making it a way bigger deal than it needed to be. He smiled softly when Scott patted him on the back and nodded his thanks to Isaac who flashed him a grin and gave him a thumbs up.

He and Scott were still in their pajamas and it was just adorable. 

“I don’t know how they didn’t manage to scare you away, but I’m really happy they didn’t,” Laura continued. “I don’t know if any of you know this, but revenue went up 150 percent for the past month. And I’m pretty sure that all of you saw the article in the _Local_ section of the Beacon Hills Chronicle featuring Stiles’ carbonara as the new heir to Beacon Hill’s culinary scene.”

“What do you think about that Derek?” Erica purred from where she was sprawled over an armchair. As always her makeup was done and her hair was perfectly curled at eight in the morning. Stiles was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Looks like you might not be king of Food Mountain for very long.”

Derek huffed and rolled his eyes, refusing to humor Erica with an answer. He was a professional at not taking her bait. Scott, on the other hand, was not.

“Hey, be nice Erica,” he said, twirling his fingers in his boyfriend’s curls. “Derek and Stiles are both good chefs. One doesn’t have to be better than the other.”

“You’re so adorable it hurts,” Erica said, smirking at Scott, who simply shrugged his shoulders and kissed Isaac on the forehead.

“Anyway,” Laura interrupted, shaking her head fondly at the banter. “I’d just thought I’d let all of you of you know how well you’re doing, and to keep up the good work. I think that’s about it. Someone wake up Jackson, and I’ll see you guys back here for lunch.” 

Stiles sleepily stumbled out of the employee lounge and said his goodbyes to the Attractive Brigade. He had gotten surprisingly close to them during the past month, especially Scott and Isaac. He was still trying not to get flustered when Erica winked at him and he was taking it on a day-to-day basis with Jackson.

So far there had been twenty-four good days to seven bad days. But most of the bad days had come during the beginning of the month, so Stiles was pretty sure they were making progress.

Stiles wouldn’t go as far as saying that he was best friends with any of them, but he felt like he was slowly opening up to them and vice versa.

He learned that Erica was an epileptic, but she kept it very much under control. If she hadn’t told him she was, Stiles would’ve never guessed. She carried herself in a way like she knew she was attractive and Stiles respected her for that.

Stiles learned that Jackson had been adopted and didn’t like to talk about his parents very often. He did like to constantly mock Scott and Isaac’s relationship, but Stiles soon realized that it was out of love. Isaac had had to explain it to him. “We don’t mind,” Isaac had said. “At the end of the day Jackson’s our friend. He just shows it a little differently than most people.”

As for Scott and Isaac, nothing they did surprised Stiles. They were pretty much that classic relationship that everyone wanted to be in. They showed up to work together, they left together, ate together, and they lived together. It was just fun to watch them interact. Stiles wanted the cuteness to stop, but at the same time he didn’t. 

The only one Stiles had yet to get a full read on was Grumpy Eyebrows himself. Although Stiles and Jackson had their moments, Stiles found it harder to get annoyed with Jackson after he’d had his talk with Isaac. Derek, on the other hand, was a whole different enigma. 

Some days Derek was really easy to work with. On those days they would chat back and forth while they were cooking and the vibe of the restaurant would be pretty relaxed. 

By now they both Stiles and Derek knew how to cook the others specialty dishes in case one of them wanted to take a shift off. Stiles still made the best carbonara and Derek’s strip steaks were unparalleled, but it was the principle that counted. Neither cooked the other’s specialty while the other was working, however.

On the other hand, Jackson still didn’t share any of his dessert recipes, so he still held a monopoly on that. (He had showed Stiles how to make brownies, but Stiles already knew how to make brownies, so that didn’t count) 

But some days, Derek just wasn’t pleasant to work with at all. He would show up to shifts sullen and gloomy and would take out his frustrations on his food and whoever was dumb enough to make mistakes that day. 

Jackson wasn’t safe. 

“You can’t sauté mushrooms on high!” he would shout, inches from Jackson’s face. “Why don’t you burn them in an open flame and put them on a plate, because that’s basically what you’re doing right now.”

Neither was Scott.

“For the millionth time Scott, put the fucking orders on the rack. It’s not rocket science. And even if it was, figure it out.”

Isaac wasn’t safe, but he was at the same time. Derek never really yelled at Isaac. 

“Isaac you just can’t offer everyone who’s been waiting more than twenty minutes a free glass of champagne,” Derek would groan. “I know your job is to be nice, but use your brain a little bit more ok?” 

Stiles was never safe. It seemed like whenever Derek was in a bad mood, Stiles got yelled at. 

“Can you make anything other than Italian food?!” Derek would yell, as he tasted whatever it was Stiles had cooked that time. “I mean this clam chowder tastes like it came out of a Campbell’s can. It’s abysmal and you should be ashamed of yourself.” 

So whereas Stiles was on a day-to-day basis with Jackson, he was on a shift-to-shift basis with Derek. Some shifts were bad, and some shifts were good.

Most of the good shifts came on Mondays. Laura decided that since Stiles’ carbonara had become as popular as Derek’s strip steaks, it needed it’s own special day too. And that’s how Carbonara Mondays came into existence. It was basically just an excuse for Stiles to have to cook pot after pot of carbonara for it to be sold for half the price. Stiles loved Carbonara Mondays; it meant that he got to cook a lot of pasta. But Stiles also hated Carbonara Mondays; it meant that he had to cook a lot of pasta. But at the end of the day he was glad that his carbonara was finally getting the respect that it deserved.

On Mondays, Derek was usually pretty friendly. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was because his workload was cut in half or because Monday’s were his favorite day of the week. He was leaning towards the first option though. Derek barely did anything on Mondays. 

This Monday was no exception, and as Stiles was flying around the kitchen, Derek was leaning against the counter sipping and espresso. 

“Derek, can you put another pot of water on for me?” Stiles asked. “I’m really swamped right now.” 

“Of course,” Derek answered helpfully. So it looked like today was going to be a god shift. “What kind of noodles do you want me to boil?”

“Actually, I lied,” Stiles replied, not even looking at Derek. “Can you put two pots on; one with spaghetti noodles and the other with lasagna noodles? I just realized that I’m running low on lasagna.”

“Sure thing,” Derek said. As he walked past Stiles to get to the stove, he ran his hand lightly over Stiles’ back.

Stiles almost spilled the rotini he was plating.

“Dude, what is with you?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Some shifts you’re literally straight out of kitchen nightmare, yelling at everything that moves. But now you’re all friendly? What gives?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek replied, as he filled the pots with water. “Do you put salt in your water when you boil it?” 

“No, and don’t change the subject,” Stiles answered curtly. “Do you only like me on Mondays? Do you only like me when I’m not cooking? I don’t understand.”

Derek turned back to Stiles, took a deep breath and exhaled, puffing out his cheeks. “I like you Stiles,” he said finally. “You’re a great chef and a hard worker. Sometimes you’re just a little bit too much to handle. But I do like you.” 

“Oh, okay,” Stiles nodded. “I can live with that. So when you’re yelling at me because I rinsed the broccoli with sink water instead of bottled water, you still like me?”

“Yes,” Derek replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “I still like you.”

“And just so we’re clear, when you’re yelling at me because when our versions of medium-rare differ slightly, you still like me?”

“That burger was rare and you know it,” Derek said. The smile was definitely there now. Stiles liked it when Derek smiled though. He wanted him to do it more often. “But yes. I still like you.” 

“Wonderful.” Stiles said, grinning and leaning against the countertop. “Well, now that we’ve established that you can feel free to run your hands over my person whenever you feel like it. Now that I know you like me, you can touch me whenever.”

Derek grinned and quickly walked over to where Stiles was standing. He stood very close to Stiles, effectively trapping him between his body and the countertop. He placed both of his hands on top of Stiles’ and his forehead was inches away from Stiles’ head.

It was a welcome change from the times where he had slammed Stiles against the cabinets. This was much better.

“I can touch you whenever I want?” he purred into Stiles’ ear. “ _Whenever_ I want?”

“Yeah,” Stiles shakily replied. He licked his lips nervously and locked on to Derek’s eyes. “Whenever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Derek whispered. He placed his hands on Stiles’ hips and squeezed ever so slightly. Thank God they were the only two in the kitchen. 

Except Erica _would_ come in at a time like this. 

“Stiles I need that order of rotini and I--” She stopped dead at the scene in the kitchen and her trademark smile appeared on her face. “That’s hot.” 

“Here’s the rotini you wanted Erica,” Stiles said, elbowing his way around Derek and putting the plates on Erica’s tray. “Do you have any new orders?” 

“No,” she replied, smirking. “But it looks like you do, and I’d get on that if I were you.” She took the rotini and sauntered out of the kitchen. 

“I hate this place,” Stiles groaned. He looked back over at Derek who was looking like he hadn’t done anything wrong. “Yeah,” Stiles repeated. “I hate this place.”

He groaned and walked back to his station. He still had a lasagna to make.

 


	6. Confrontation

Stiles really wished it wasn’t a Monday night.

Not only was he cooking an absurd amount of pasta for a seemingly endless dinner rush, but he was also fending off Derek’s numerous advances. He really couldn’t come up with a better term for them because Derek was stalking him like Stiles was a wounded animal in the wilderness. Ever since Stiles had given him the green light that touching was okay, Derek turned into a watered down version of the cuddle monster. He couldn’t walk by Stiles without at least patting him on the back. 

It was getting a little ridiculous. They weren’t necessarily _bad_ touches, they just came when Stiles was least expecting them.

Like the time Stiles was in the middle of draining a pot of piping hot rotini noodles into a colander and Derek chose that exact moment to walk by and pat him on the back.

Or the time when Stiles was carefully spooning carbonara sauce onto his spaghetti noodles and Derek leaned over his shoulder and said, “That smells delicious,” right in Stiles’ ear.

Or maybe the time when Stiles was cutting lasagna and Derek came up behind him and did the classic ‘athletic’ ass tap causing Stiles to drop the lasagna onto the floor. 

“I’m not cleaning that up,” Jackson said, trying to control his laughter and failing miserably. 

“Dude!” Stiles groaned, turning to Derek and running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I know I said you could put your hands on me whenever you wanted to, but if you could limit it to times when I’m not cooking, that would be great.”

“You said whenever,” Derek pouted. He pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. And come on, that just wasn’t fair. Derek looked like someone had run over his puppy. He wasn’t allowed to have facial expressions like that; they detracted from the angry chef vibe that worked so well for him. “I’m working on being nicer,” he said sullenly. “To you,” he added.

“I know,” Stiles replied. He bent down and moved the spilt lasagna out of the middle of the kitchen floor. He could get one of the busboys to clean it up later. “And I’m flattered that you’re trying to be nice to me. And the friendly touches are nice.  But not when I’m cooking. In case you haven’t noticed, tonight is Carbonara Monday. Any other night and you can touch me as much as your little heart desires. But tonight I really need to focus on all this pasta so your sister doesn’t kill me.” 

Stiles offered Derek a small smile and then resumed cutting more pieces of lasagna and putting them on plates.

“So you like it when I touch you?” Derek asked quietly.

“What?” Stiles asked. He wiped some excess sauce off of the plate he was working with and placed it on a tray to await Erica or Scott. “Yeah, I like it when you touch me,” he said, turning back to face Derek. “I like you. I mean I like you more when you’re not yelling at me and slamming me into cabinets, but there hasn’t been very much of that lately. So thanks for that. The ass-slap might have been a little much, but we can work our way up to it. ”

“So we’re good?” Derek asked.  

“Yes,” Stiles said, grinning. He put on hand on Derek’s shoulder and squeezed gently, reassuring the other man. “We’re good. I like it when you touch me. And I promise if you want to touch me after this shift is over, you can."

“Okay,” Derek said, smiling softly. He nodded briefly at Stiles and then went back to presumably cook more strip steaks. Stiles hadn’t been noticing what Derek had been cooking that night; he had been too busy focusing on his own dishes.

Erica came into the kitchen a little while later to pick up the lasagnas and some additional orders of carbonara. If she noticed the lasagna on the floor then she didn’t say anything about it, but if the quirk in her eyebrows was anything to go by, she definitely noticed it.

Sometimes this place was too weird to be true.

***

Finally, the dinner rush was over. Stiles’ pots and pans were clean, and he had taken a page out of Derek’s book and had extra portions of carbonara and lasagna warming in the oven. He didn’t feel like cooking anymore, and if customers wanted something else, he’d instructed Isaac to tell them that they were out.

Stiles was leaning against the stove and watching Jackson cut slices of cheesecake and top them with fruit and whipped cream. Jackson really needed to have a dessert special because everything he sent out looked like it belonged in a culinary catalog. They were exquisitely beautiful.

Stiles felt a body press up against his own, and turned to find Derek standing nervously beside him.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” Stiles answered. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know,” Derek replied. “What are you doing?”

“Watching the master pastry chef at work,” Stiles answered, loud enough for Jackson to hear. Jackson didn’t look at him, but flashed Stiles a thumbs-up. So that meant today was probably going in the books as a good day.

“Oh,” Derek answered quietly. “Um, what are you doing later?”

“Probably gonna go to sleep,” Stiles chuckled. “I’ve been on my feet pretty much non-stop today. The only thing that I want to do right now is be reunited with my bed.”

“Well, we always go out to the bar on 63rd every first Monday of the month,” Derek said, and it sounded like there was a _twinge_ of nervousness in his voice. He nudged the fallen lasagna on the floor with his foot. “I just thought maybe you might want to come with us.”

Stiles hadn’t planned to go. He really hadn’t. But then Derek looked him in the eyes and there was that pout again. It wasn’t fair. Derek was growly and grumpy most of the time but this pout was lethal.

“Are you asking me out?” Stiles asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t know,” Derek answered quietly. “I think so. Maybe? Laura told me to invite you and so did Erica and Isaac.”

Stiles laughed softly and nodded his head. “So if it wasn’t for them you would be perfectly content to just let me go home and sleep?”

“What? No?” Derek said quickly. “I want you to come too.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rose. He liked this side of Derek. In the kitchen, Derek was tall and confident and a little angry when things didn’t go exactly the way he wanted them to, but now he seemed vulnerable and _definitely_ nervous. It kind of balanced the kitchen part of him out.

It didn’t stop Stiles from taking this prime opportunity to mess with Derek just a little bit.

“And why, pray tell, to you want me to come?” he asked, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking.

“Didn’t we already go over this earlier today?” Derek asked, frowning slightly.  “I already told you why I liked you. And you said that we were good, and you liked the friendly touches. So I just thought that you might want to come out with us.”

So evidently the pout didn’t stay out for long.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said, finally smiling and raising his hands in defense. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Derek answered and squeezed Stiles’ shoulder before returning to his station to start prepping for tomorrow’s lunch shift. 

***

Full Moon Steakhouse was on 67th  Street, so they all walked from the restaurant to the bar after closing.

Erica and Laura led the group, chatting about girl stuff. Stiles could only marvel at the way Erica’s curls bounced perfectly as she walked, in stark contrast with the way Laura’s  long brown hair flowed behind her.

Jackson was behind them, walking and texting at the same time. Stiles vaguely remembered Isaac telling him that Jackson was in a long distance relationship with his boyfriend Danny. Or Andy. One of the two.

Speaking of Isaac, he and Scott walking together. Both of Scott’s hands were in his pockets, and Isaac had linked one of his arms in Scott’s. They were talking quietly and every now and then Scott would nudge Isaac’s head with his own. Stiles really wanted to hate how adorable they were. But he knew that there was no way he could.

As for Stiles, he was walking with Derek, who was apparently very glad that Stiles was no longer working, because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He had his arm around Stiles’ shoulders, which forced Stiles to wrap his arm around Derek’s waist. Not that Stiles minded. Derek was humming slightly as they walked, and seemed very content that Stiles had come out with him. Every now and then he would look down at Stiles and smile softly, and Stiles would always smile right back.

When they got to the bar, Stiles was surprised to find that it was packed. He’d skipped the college scene, but he was pretty sure that bars weren’t supposed to be this busy on a Monday night-- Thursday through Saturday, yeah, but definitely not on a Monday.

“There’s no open tables,” he said to Derek. “What are we going to do?”

Derek grinned and pointed at Erica.

Erica strode over to a standing table that was full of drunken men. She put both of her elbows on the table and batted her eyelashes a couple times. Stiles had no idea what she was saying, but whatever it was, it was certainly doing the trick. In a matter of seconds the men had left the table and Erica was motioning for the Stiles and the rest of them to come over. 

“What did you do?” Stiles asked her.

“Worked my feminine magic,” she said, flashing him her trademark smile. “I was a bartender in WeHo. I know how get men into the palm of my hand.”

Stiles didn’t doubt that for a minute. He could picture Erica bartending at a gay bar in West Hollywood and having every single guy there clamoring to buy a drink from her. He rolled his eyes fondly and set about perusing the drink menu.

It turned out to be a very enjoyable night. Laura ordered the first round of drinks, and everyone toasted Stiles and his carbonara. Stiles talked to Scott and Isaac about his time in culinary school, and Scott responded with stories about some of the regulars at the restaurant. Jackson and Laura were talking about some reality television show, Stiles didn’t watch that much TV, so he had no idea what they were talking about.

Derek held Stiles’ hand the entire night, except for the brief moment when he excused himself to the bathroom. But he came right back and intertwined his fingers with Stiles’. He didn’t really talk much, but his constant presence was good enough for Stiles.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were going to touch me whenever,” Stiles whispered. Derek grinned and draped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “But this is nice. I’m glad I came out tonight. Thanks for inviting me.”

Derek opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut and glared at something behind Stiles. Stiles noticed that the rest of their group had stopped talking and were looking in the same direction that Derek was looking.

“What gives?” Stiles asked to no one in particular. He turned to see what everyone was looking at, but by then there was a man and a woman standing at their table.

“So, this must be your new sous chef, Laura,” the man said. Stiles wasn’t sure if the smile on the man’s face was fake or not. But whoever he was, he clearly sat Derek and the rest of the group on edge. “He’s the one responsible for the carbonara? I saw the article in the paper.”

“That’s none of your business Chris,” Laura replied coolly. “But since you’re so concerned with my new sous chef, you might want to go back to the drawing board and figure out another futile way of stopping us from winning best restaurant again.”

Suddenly, it clicked in Stiles’ mind. It was Chris and Allison Argent, the father-daughter duo at the Silver Platter Bar and Brewery Laura had told him about on his first day. According to Laura and everyone else, they were bad people. Stiles locked eyes with Allison, remembering that she was the one who slashed Isaac. Stiles hated her already.

Chris threw back his head and laughed. “Always the jokester Laura,” he said. “As much as I would like to see Full Moon Steakhouse win ‘Best Restaurant’ for the fifth year in a row, I think I’d like it more if Silver Platter could break the streak. So I was thinking that maybe I could convince him to come and work for me,” he said, looking directly at Stiles.  

Derek tensed and tightened his arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “That’s not happening Chris,” he said lowly. “Stiles is with us.”

“Um, I can speak for myself,” Stiles cut in. He gave Derek a pointed look and then turned his attention to Chris. “Okay look, Chris? Was it?”

“Oh, yes. I don’t think we’ve been formerly introduced. I’m Chris Argent, head chef and owner of Silver Platter Bar and Brewery.” He extended his hand and Stiles shook it, ignoring the way Derek growled low in his throat. “This is my daughter and sous chef Allison.”

Stiles did not shake Allison’s hand. She slashed Isaac. She was no friend of his.

“Hey,” he said curtly.

“Hi,” came her clipped response.  

“So Stiles,” Chris continued. “How has it been working for Laura?”

“Great.”

“How much does she pay you?”

“Enough,” Stiles answered. He wasn’t going to give Chris any inkling of hope that he was going to be able to snag Stiles away from Full Moon.

“Right,” Chris answered, chuckling slightly. “So if I said that I would pay you triple what Laura was paying you to come work for me, what would you say?”

“I would say that I don’t know how you can afford three hundred bucks an hour if you haven’t won best restaurant in the past four years.” Stiles shrugged his shoulders.  

“Laura pays you one hundred dollars an hour?” Chris asked. “I don’t believe that.”

“Well I’m sorry you feel that way,” Stiles answered, making sure that everyone knew that he was _not_ sorry at all. “But if you can’t meet my asking price, then I don’t think we have anything else to talk about.”

Chris and Allison both glared at him. Stiles put both his palms up in an ‘I know exactly what you want from me, but I’m going to pretend that I don’t so you’ll go away’ gesture.

“Sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” Chris asked. “I think you would do great if you came and worked for me.”

“Look, Chris, I’m flattered that you want me to work in your restaurant so badly, and I’m sure that you’re a great guy, but I just can’t see myself working anywhere other than the Full Moon.”

“You’ve been there a month,” Allison cut in.

“Wow, thanks for pointing that out Allison,” Stiles shot back. “I think we all knew that. The next time I need a human calendar, I’ll come to you.” 

Scott snickered in the background, and out of the corner of his eye, Stiles caught Isaac trying to suppress his grin.

“I think what my daughter is trying to say is that you haven’t really experienced all the culinary world has to offer,” Chris replied gently. “We’re just trying to offer you a different way of cooking.”

“Thanks but I’ll pass,” Stiles said, smiling. “I like working here. The pay’s great and the people are even better,” he added gesturing at his friends. “Plus I’m having fun. I think that’s all that matters.”

“I think we’re done here,” Chris said. “Nice meeting you Stiles, and I look forward to seeing you at the awards ceremony.” He extended his hand to Stiles again, who shook it firmly. He might not like Chris, but he couldn’t deny that the man knew when he was beat and bowed out gracefully. Stiles could respect that.

“I’ll bring my carbonara,” Stiles said cheerfully, as Chris turned on his heel and left.

Allison lingered for a moment after, surveying the group. “Bye Isaac,” she smiled, her voice sickly sweet. She waved at the curly haired boy, wiggling her fingers for emphasis.

Scott stepped in front of his boyfriend and folded his arms across his chest. He leveled Allison with a glare that rivaled Derek’s initial glare during Stiles’ first day on the job. It was pretty impressive considering that Scott’s default facial expression was as cute as a puppy.

“Say another word, bitch,” Erica spat. “You really don’t want to have a girl fight in the middle of the bar. It’d be hot, but you really don’t want to do it.”

Allison smirked and followed her dad out of the restaurant.

Stiles exhaled deeply and put his head on the table. What a night. 

“Dude! That was awesome!” Scott exclaimed when Stiles lifted his head. “You totally shut Chris down! And the way you handled Allison, that was so cool!.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Stiles said, grinning. “I mean it was kind of a dick move asking me to go and work for him in front of you guys. I mean I understand that he wants me to work for him, but that took some serious cajones to do in front of Laura and Derek. Like, who does that? And don’t even get me started on Allison. I’m with you Erica, not a fan.”

Erica laughed and gave him a high five. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Stiles.”

Stiles laughed with the rest of the group about the encounter for the rest of the night. As they were leaving the bar, Derek pulled him aside.

“You’re not leaving,” he said simply.

“Yeah, I thought I made that pretty obvious,” Stiles said. “I like working at Full Moon.”

“And you like me,” Derek said, nodding. “You like it when I touch you. We’re friends.”

“I do like you and we are friends.” Stiles agreed. “And I would not want Chris touching me while I make carbonara. That would not be very pleasant.”

“I touch you when you make carbonara,” Derek said softly.

“You do,” Stiles agreed. “And it is very pleasant. Except not on Mondays.”

“But other days,” Derek said. “It’s pleasant?”

“I mean you’ve only been touching me for a day,” Stiles pointed out. “But I imagine it will be pleasant.” 

“Okay,” Derek said, nodding. He walked over and hugged Stiles tightly. “Thanks for staying,” he whispered.

“You know you have to talk to Laura about raising my pay now,” Stiles said, voice muffled by Derek’s body.  

“Shut up Stiles,” Derek whispered, hugging him tighter.


	7. Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if any of you know this, but Bookgodess15 is absolutely amazing. She's been a great help and she deserves all the credit in the world.

They were swamped again.

It was the third day in a row, too.

The first day had been understandable. It had been a Monday, and ever since its beginning, Carbonara Monday had always been busy. Tuesday had been busy because there had been some sort of conference in Beacon Hills. And apparently _all_ the hotel concierges had recommended Full Moon as a great lunchtime spot. So Tuesday, Derek and Stiles had served around seventy-five businessmen, none of whom had made reservations.  Derek had not been a happy camper. 

And today, there was a bridal party luncheon. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem. Stiles had dealt with bridal parties before. They were usually full of happy women who ate a lot and tipped even more. Except thiswas a _vegetarian_ bridal party, and they had conveniently failed to mention that key little detail when they made their reservations three weeks ago. Stiles didn’t have a problem with vegetarians, either. Lydia, his agent, had gone through a vegan phase, and Stiles spent five months perfecting various dishes that were free of animal and dairy products. It had actually been pretty fun, experimenting with different flavors and ingredients. 

Stiles’ problem was that he had prepared an entire spread of classic Italian dishes that had meat in them, specifically for this bridal party. He had meat lasagna, sausage ravioli, spaghetti Bolognese, chicken Parmesan, and of course his creamy bacon carbonara. 

He had even put in a little extra bacon for the bride, and she turned out to be a vegetarian.

“Stiles, I need three orders of vegetarian lasagna, four orders of fettuccine alfredo, two orders of spinach ravioli, an order of regular spaghetti, and the bride wants to know if you can make your carbonara without the bacon. She’s heard great things about it and she really wants to try it.”

Stiles had never wanted to make carbonara less in his life.

“It’s a creamy _bacon_ carbonara,” he whined to Derek, once Scott had left the kitchen. “There’s supposed to be bacon in it. It tastes better with bacon. _Everything_ tastes better with bacon.” 

He grumbled as he prepared an all new pot of sauce for this bride who had decided that she didn’t want to eat Babe the Pig.

How was he even going to go about making a vegetarian carbonara? He was just going to have to improvise and hoped the bride liked it. He grabbed cream, milk, eggs, tomatoes, garlic and celery out of the pantry and got to work.

“This is not how I expected to be spending my day,” he called to Derek. “How do you forget to say that you’re all vegetarians when you make reservations? I feel like that would be one of the first things I would say.”

“At least she’s not sending anything back half-eaten and demanding a full refund and a new plate,” Derek replied from where he was seasoning strip steaks. “That’s happened to Jackson and I too many times to count.”

“In culinary school, they always taught us that if the customer ate more half of the food then they liked it,” Stiles said. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing with this sauce. He wasn’t sure what it was supposed to look like, but it certainly didn’t look normal. “And if they wanted something more then they had to pay for it.” 

“That’s cute,” Derek said, grinning. “Did they tell you what to do if a customer comes into the kitchen screaming at you?” 

“Oddly enough they didn’t,” Stiles shot back. He tasted his vegetarian carbonara sauce. It tasted like it was missing something, and you didn’t have to go through culinary school to know what it was.

Bacon.

“What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you while you’ve been a chef here?” Stiles asked. “Something that would give all the little cooks at culinary school nightmares.”

“That’s a good one,” Derek replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “One time my sister decided that we needed a new sous chef after our last one moved. I had to wake up at 8:30 in the morning to taste a bunch of terrible dishes. There was only one good one out of the whole group. I think he made spaghetti or something, but the experience as a whole was just so traumatizing.” 

“I hate you,” Stiles said, flinging a piece of celery in Derek’s direction.

“Do you need help with anything?” Derek asked, walking over to Stiles’ station. 

Stiles glared at him. No one was asking Derek to make a tofu New York strip steak. He didn’t understand the pain Stiles was in. 

Asking a chef to modify the prominent ingredient in their specialty dish was like asking to Pope to convert to Buddhism. You didn’t just not do it, you didn’t even _think_ about doing it.

Add that to the fact that Stiles was already pretty much resigned that his sauce was going to taste terrible, and he was in a pretty bad mood.

I honestly just don’t care,” Stiles said rolling his eyes. He cut up a couple more pieces of celery and threw them into the saucepan along with some butter and cream. He thought about adding a slice of bacon just to be evil, but decided against it. He didn’t want the Full Moon to get slapped with a lawsuit because he was holding a grudge against a bride he was never going to meet. “I have no idea how this sauce is going to turn out, but I’m pretty much over it.” 

“Hey,” Derek said gently. “Don’t be that way. I’m sure it’s going to taste fine. You know enough about flavors and textures to make a good vegetarian sauce.” He dipped a spoon in the sauce and tasted it. “Look at it this way, it tastes better than anything any of the other chefs made on your first day."

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Well that’s certainly saying something. So I take it that you’re going to throw it up later instead of now?” 

Derek smirked and held up his hands in defense. “It tastes fine, Stiles. You should have more confidence in your cooking skills. You wouldn’t have gotten the job here if you were mediocre.”

“Suddenly I feel so much better about myself,” Stiles snorted. He added a couple more teaspoons of butter to the sauce and salted it for good measure. He took another small taste before deciding that it wasn’t going to get much better, before plating it and putting it on a tray.

It was out of his hands now.

***

Isaac came in twenty minutes later telling Stiles that the bride wanted to send her compliments to the chef because it had been the best carbonara she had ever had.

“What did I say?” Derek asked, coming up to pat him on the back. 

“Would you get out of here?” Stiles shot back.

***

“Thank God,” Stiles announced as he fell into his favorite lounge chair. He had fallen into it so many times that the rest of the employees had moved it to the side of the room and dubbed it ‘Stiles’ chair. He didn’t mind. He deserved it. If he had to make all that carbonara then he deserved his own chair. “I think if I’d made one more dish my hands would have started bleeding.”

Isaac chuckled from his place underneath Scott. They were cuddled together on their favorite couch. It hadn’t been claimed like Stiles’ chair had, but it was an unspoken rule that it was their couch. Scott and Isaac had this routine of whoever got to the employee lounge first, served to be the pillow for the other. Usually Isaac liked to lie on top of Scott, because his boyfriend wasn’t quite as affectionate as he was. But Scott must have been feeling extra affectionate today, because he clung to Isaac like a sloth to a tree trunk.

“Yeah, it was way busy out there today,” Isaac agreed. “I think at one point the wait was like forty-five minutes. That’s long for a lunch shift.”

“Don’t these people have work?” Stiles groaned, shifting in his chair. It was more of a loveseat, meant for two people, but Stiles always sprawled out over all of it. “Like, I thought that normal people took their lunch to work or stopped at McDonald’s or something. And don’t even get me started on the vegetarian bridal party. Isaac, from now on, you better ask if people are vegetarians when they make reservations. Say it’s standard protocol or something." 

“Sounds like you’re a little bitter,” Isaac said, grinning. “But at least you’re getting paid either way. And the tips were pretty good today, too. The bridal party left almost a thousand dollars.”

“I’m not bitter,” Stiles corrected. “I’m just tired. And when I’m tired, I complain. I love working here. Everyone here is great, and I love that everyone and their mother is ordering my food, but it’s 3:30 and I’m exhausted. And I know that in a couple hours I’ll have to do the same thing all over again, except it’ll be for dinner.”

“That’s the chef’s life,” Scott mumbled. His face was pressed into Isaac’s chest, so Stiles had a hard time hearing him. Isaac nudged him, and he lifted his head up to look at Stiles. “You should’ve been a waiter like me. Then you might’ve been able to get a super cute boyfriend who’s a host.”

Isaac rolled his eyes and punched Scott lightly in the side. Scott grinned and pressed a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips before settling back down into his chest.

“Har-har,” Stiles replied, smiling at his friend. “I think I’ll pass on that one, bud. I like being a chef. I’ll find someone eventually.”

“Of course you will,” Isaac agreed. “You’re a nice guy, Stiles. You’re funny and you make great food. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Who’s lucky to have him?” Derek asked, as he came into the room. He stood in the center of the lounge and looked around at Scott, Isaac and Stiles. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Derek,” Isaac replied. “We were just talking about whether or not it would be easier for Stiles to get a boyfriend if he was a chef or a waiter like Scott?”

“You have a boyfriend?” Derek asked, turning to Stiles. “But I thought you were— I thought we— I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Stiles frowned as Derek stumbled over his words. Why would Derek care if he had a boyfriend or not? It wasn’t like Derek was interested in him, right? He was Derek’s sous chef, and they had just now broken the boundary into friends.

Sure Derek had asked him out to the bar on Monday, but that was because Laura and Erica had told him to. Derek probably just didn’t want Stiles to feel left out. And sure Derek had his arm around Stiles’ shoulders the whole night, but that didn’t matter. And the hug at the end of the night probably was just a hug between friends. Derek hugged everyone. 

Right?

Wrong.  

Come to think of it, Stiles had never seen Derek hug _anyone._ Not Laura. Definitely not Jackson. Not Erica, Scott or even Isaac. And Isaac was, far and away, the most huggable of their happy bunch. Derek’s form of affection was a simple nod or a handshake. He was more likely to tell you how much you sucked at making PB&J than to give you a hug. 

So if Derek hugged Stiles, did that mean Derek liked Stiles? Did he like him enough to date him?

Wait, had Monday night been a _date?_  When Derek said that he was asking Stiles out was he _asking Stiles out?_ Like asking Stiles on a date, to be his boyfriend, back to his place for super hot chef sex, or any combination of the three? 

Clearly the last one was wishful thinking on Stiles’ part, but the other two options were plausible.

This changed things.

The more he thought about it, the more Stiles could see how Derek thought they might be dating, or at least on the way to dating. Ever since he told Stiles that he wanted to touch him and we was working on being nicer to Stiles, Derek had become much more friendly and tactile to Stiles, and Stiles alone.

Disregarding Monday night, there had been much more touching and Derek had complemented Stiles more in the past three days than he had in the entire month prior. Derek wasn’t even that friendly to Isaac, and _everyone_ was friendly to Isaac.

Oh. 

So Derek probably was interested in Stiles. Which blew Stiles’ mind because he had thought Derek was smoking hot since he stepped into Full Moon. Stiles had always thought that Derek saw him as some sort of annoying sidekick or something. But now that it appeared the attraction was mutual, Stiles didn’t really know what to do.

“No I don’t have a boyfriend,” Stiles said, swallowing nervously at his newfound revelation.  “No boyfriend here. Just your ordinary sous chef. Who’s single. With no boyfriend.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Isaac raise an eyebrow. He quickly shot Isaac a look, imploring him not to say anything. Isaac, bless his heart, got the message and resumed petting Scott’s hair.

“Oh. Okay. ” Derek said softly, walking over to Stiles’ loveseat. “I— Um, can I sit down?” 

“Sure,” Stiles said. He thought about pointing out that there were plenty of open chairs and couches left in the lounge, but if Derek wanted to sit next to him, Stiles wasn’t going to complain. They were doing all right with the touching, and if sitting next to him was Derek’s awkward way of flirting then Stiles wasn’t going to complain. Derek was still smoking hot and Stiles would definitely take a large slice of Derek to go. Thank you very much.

Stiles sat up to give Derek some space on the loveseat. Derek sat down next to him and offered him a small smile. “You can lie back down if you want,” he said softly, gesturing to his lap. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles said. He slowly lowered his head onto Derek’s lap, and fidgeted a little to get comfortable. He wasn’t going to admit it to anyone, but Derek was more comfortable than the couch. Stiles could get used to using Derek as a pillow. He could get used to using Derek as a lot of things, but he would save those thoughts for later.

Derek rested one of his hands on Stiles’ shoulder, and he put the other on his lap, inches from the crown of Stiles’ head. Stiles thought about head butting Derek’s hand to get him to pat his head, but that might be encroaching on Scott and Isaac levels of cuteness. He didn’t want to ruin anything he had with Derek before they even started dating.

“So what brings you into the break room, Derek?” Scott asked. “You almost never come in here. Usually you stay in the kitchens and stuff.” 

“I just thought I would hang out in here,” Derek answered, subtly squeezing Stiles’ shoulder. “Everyone else is.”

“Aah,” Isaac said, “That makes sense. I understand.” 

“What, babe?” Scott asked, pushing himself up to look his boyfriend in the eyes.

“I’ll tell you when we get home,” Isaac said, kissing Scott on the nose. He looked over at Stiles and inclined his head, subtly telling Stiles that he just figured out the same thing Stiles did.  “Go back to sleep.”

Scott frowned and pressed another quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips before tucking his head back in the nook of Isaac’s shoulder.

Stiles looked up at Derek and shrugged his shoulders. “Probably some secret boyfriend lingo,” he said, even though he knew exactly what Isaac was talking about.

“Probably,” Derek said back. 

“Hey, Stiles, that reminds me. Do you want to come to my birthday party?” Isaac asked. 

“Seriously Isaac? Are we in third grade?” Stiles said. “I didn’t know that twenty-something year olds still had birthday parties.”

“I’m turning twenty-two,” Isaac said grinning. “And if it makes you feel older, we don’t have to call it a birthday party.”

“Yeah, because I don’t go to birthday parties,” Stiles said. Then he looked up at Derek. “You’re going too, right?”

“I wasn’t going to. I didn’t know if you were going.” Derek said, and there was that nervous twinge again. “Plus, someone has to stay and work the restaurant.”

“Oh, I talked to Laura,” Isaac cut in. “She said we can close early next Saturday and go out. That way no one has to cook”

“Oh, you are perfect Isaac,” Stiles said enthusiastically. “I could totally use at least a shift off.”

“You’ve been working here for a month and you think you’re entitled to a day off?” Derek asked, grinning down at Stiles.

“A shift off,” Stiles corrected, head butting Derek’s stomach. “And I’m pretty sure that Chris would give me a day off if I asked him nicely.”

“You’re not going to work for Chris,” Derek said, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “You said you would stay here with me, with us.”

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” Stiles said quickly. “Derek, I’m not going to work for Chris. I’m staying here. I promise.” He wiggled further into Derek’s lap, so Derek’s vacant hand was touching his head. “I’m staying right here.” 

“Okay,” Derek said softly. He started gently stroking Stiles’ hair as if to reassure himself that Stiles wasn’t leaving. Yeah, Derek was interested. Derek was totally interested.

“So you’re gonna come with me to Isaac’s birthday right?” Stiles prompted. 

Derek nodded a couple times, before smiling softly down at Stiles. Stiles smiled back. He liked that Derek had a vulnerable side. It was really sweet. It made him just want to lean up and kiss the nervousness right out of Derek’s system. Derek hummed slightly as he continued rubbing Stiles’ head, and Stiles took that as a mini-victory. If they kept this up, Stiles was sure that it would only be a matter of time until they started dating. 

“So,” Stiles said, turning his attention to Isaac after that disaster was narrowly avoided. “What are we going to do for your birthday party? Balloons? Chuck E. Cheese’s? A piñata? I haven’t been to a birthday party in years.”

“Keep that up and I’ll make sure your invitation gets lost in the mail,” Isaac shot back. He fidgeted slightly under Scott, trying to get more comfortable. Scott grunted in his sleep and wrapped his arms around Isaac. Stiles rolled his eyes, even when one of them was sleeping they were still adorable. “I was thinking that we could go into the city and have a nice dinner and then go out to the clubs.” 

“Where?” Derek asked, before Stiles could reply.

“Oh um, Scott and I were looking at Bootie and Beatbox,” Isaac said, continuing to shift under his boyfriend. Now Scott had Isaac in a sleeping bear hug and was drooling slightly on Isaac’s collar. “They got good reviews on Yelp.”

“No, I meant where are we going to eat.” 

“Oh, right, I should have known,” Isaac replied, rolling his eyes and grinning. “I’m sure we can find someplace that’s satisfies your high-class taste buds. We don’t want a repeat of Erica’s birthday." 

“What happened on Erica’s birthday?” Stiles asked curiously. 

“Well, Erica had the brilliant idea that she wanted to go to Hooters for her birthday,” Isaac started. “I’m still convinced she and Laura did it to make me, Scott, Derek and Jackson feel uncomfortable because we’re all gay, and to make the Hooters’ waitresses feel inadequate because they couldn’t compete with Erica and Laura.” 

Stiles nodded knowingly. He actually felt more sympathy for the Hooters’ waitresses than he did for Isaac and the rest of them. He could imagine Erica and Laura walking into a Hooters and stealing all the attention away from the servers. Seriously, Erica could make a paper bag look sexy, and Laura could too. Putting them in a Hooters was like putting Mike Tyson in a ring with a third grader. 

There was no competition.

“What happened?” Stiles asked. 

“Derek decided that he didn’t want to eat the wings because they were cold and they tasted gross,” Isaac explained, looking at Derek and raising his eyebrows. “He also decided that he would never eat there again, and I’m pretty sure he made the waitress cry because he didn’t take her number.” 

Stiles looked up at Derek for an explanation.

“They _were_ gross,” he whined. “They said it was going to be barbecue flavored, but all I could taste was ketchup. And I didn’t want her number.”

“You could’ve been a _little_ more gentle,” Isaac said, grinning. “She was clearly trying to get some sort of confidence boost after Erica ripped it to shreds. But you said, ‘I’m gay, I don’t want your number’ and walked away.”

Stiles looked at Derek’s conflicted expression and started giggling uncontrollably. He could picture the entire scenario in his head. Erica would have been her usual perfect self and ripped the waitress’ self-esteem to shreds just by smiling at her. The waitress would have then spent the rest the time trying to restore any semblance of self-confidence she had by flirting with Derek and trying to get him to take her number. Derek would have been in a bad mood because he hated when food tasted bad (as Stiles had witnessed first-hand) and would have had no patience for a desperate Hooters waitress. Derek would have (what he’d have thought was politely) declined and would basically have committed the Hooters waitress to a life in the nunnery.

It was perfect.

“I wish I could have been there,” Stiles said, trying to suppress his giggles. “That sounds great.”

“It was definitely memorable,” Isaac agreed. Scott murmured something in his sleep and Isaac brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. “So, Derek, if I promise we go to at least a four-star restaurant and then go to a nice club afterwards, will you come?’ 

Derek looked back down at Stiles, “You’re coming too, right?” he asked softly. He squeezed Stiles shoulder again and bit his bottom lip.

“Of course,” Stiles answered. “I’m not going to let the pretty waitress hit on you. Or the pretty waiter hit on you, either.” As far as Stiles was concerned, he and Derek were unofficially together. Derek was _literally_ stroking his hair. That had to count for something. Stiles would be damned if he let any waiter or waitress take Derek away from him. He smiled up at Derek, who seemed to relax after listening to Stiles. 

Derek smiled back down at Stiles and ran his fingers through his hair again. Then he looked back at Isaac. “I’ll be there,” he said softly. 

“Great,” Isaac yawned. “Now if the two of you will excuse me, I’m going to join my boyfriend in dream land. I’ll see you two for the dinner shift.” He smiled at them both and closed his eyes. 

“What do you want to do?” Stiles asked, looking up at Derek. “Do you want to get up? Because I’m gonna nap right here.” 

“I— I can stay here if you want me to,” Derek answered. “We both have to work the dinner shift anyway.”

“Yeah, I know, but what do _you_ want to do?” Stiles repeated. He secretly hoped Derek wanted to stay, because _Stiles_ certainly wanted him to. “Because if you don’t move then I’m going to fall asleep on your lap.”

“I’ll stay,” Derek said softly, much to Stiles’ pleasure.

“Cool,” Stiles said, yawning and closing his eyes. “Goodnight, Derek.” 

He felt Derek run his fingers through his hair one last time. 

“Goodnight, Stiles.”


	8. Birthday

Stiles woke to Erica snapping pictures of him and Derek on her smartphone.

“Is that really necessary?” he asked, as he yawned. He glanced at the clock; there were still about thirty minutes until the dinner shift started. Stiles stretched and looked up at Derek. He was still sleeping and his face looked surprisingly calm and peaceful. Stiles was pretty sure that face was going to go away as soon as the dinner rush started, but it was still nice to see.

Derek’s fingers were still entwined in Stiles’ hair, and his other hand had draped over Stiles’ shoulders and into his chest. In his sleep, he had pulled Stiles closer to him.

Totally interested. 

“Save it, Stilinski,” Erica said, grinning as she snapped another picture.

Stiles grimaced at the annoying shutter sound that her iPhone made. 

“It’s about time someone gave Isaac and Scott a run for their money in the cute boyfriends department. I’m saving these forever.”

Stiles looked over at the couple in question. Even though Scott fell asleep on top of Isaac, somehow they had managed to both maneuver onto their sides so they were spooning on the couch, Scott being the big spoon and Isaac being the little spoon. Scott’s right arm was gently cradling Isaac’s head and his left was wrapped around his boyfriend’s chest.

Like they had literally just one-upped Derek and Stiles. 

“I want to hate you but I can’t,” Stiles yawned again. “And look at them, there’s no way we can compete with that. They personify adorable.”

As if on cue, Scott exhaled in his slumber and pressed his face into Isaac’s neck. 

Erica huffed and turned her camera onto the sleeping couple. She took a couple of pictures and then stood up. “That should be enough for now,” she said as she scrolled through the pictures. “Time to get ready for dinner. Do you want me to wake your boyfriend up or would you like to do it?”

“You better be careful, Erica,” Stiles said, grinning. “Or I’ll make sure all your orders come out real slow and you won’t get any tips.”

“Oh please,” Erica replied flippantly. She leaned and flicked Stiles lightly on the nose. “I have a beautiful everything. I can get tips by myself.”

Stiles flinched as Erica flicked him, and his movement caused Derek to wake up. Erica winked and walked out of the lounge.

Derek blinked a couple times and then rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Hey,” he said softly, looking down at Stiles. 

“Hi,” Stiles said, from his place on Derek’s lap. “Ready for dinner?”

“Not particularly. But at least it’s not Thursday.” Derek said, grinning. Derek stretched his arms over his head and Stiles took note of the way Derek’s biceps contracted. Stiles wouldn’t mind getting acquainted with those. Derek smiled and ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair again and Stiles leaned into Derek’s touch. 

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “Thursdays are my favorite day, because I don’t have to do anything. Everyone comes for the steak.”

“Mondays happen to be my favorite days,” Derek responded. “For some reason people only order carbonara on that day. I should probably tell Laura to add a vegetarian carbonara to the menu. I’m sure that it would attract more customers.”

“I hate you,” Stiles mumbled. He rolled off of Derek and stood up. “We should probably wake up the sleeping beauties over there,” he suggested, gesturing at Scott and Isaac. He started walking over to their couch when Derek stood up and grabbed his wrist.

“Stiles wait,” Derek said, tightening his grip ever so slightly. “About you not having a boyfriend—”

“Yeah?” Stiles prompted. He held his breath in anticipation. 

“I— I just thought that— Maybe we could—” Derek frowned, trying to find the right words.

Stiles grinned and rolled his eyes. Derek was cute when he got nervous and flustered, but at this rate they were never going to get anywhere. 

“Do you want to be my boyfriend, Derek?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, smiling softly. “I wanted to ask you, but—well, you saw what happened.”

“C’mere,” Stiles said, wrapping his arms around the other man’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. 

Stiles had kissed other guys before. Usually after final examinations, all of the chefs would grab bottles of cooking wine, get wasted and play spin the bottle with the empty bottles. Usually the kisses were hard and rough and Stiles was always afraid that he was going to chip a tooth. He tended to steer clear of the post-examination parties after his first couple of rounds of spin the bottle.

Kissing Derek was nothing like that. Derek kissed him soft and sweet, gently sucking on Stiles’ lower lip. He lightly grabbed Stiles’ waist and pulled him closer. Stiles was shorter than Derek, so he had to press up on the balls of his feet to deepen the kiss.

After a minute or two, Stiles heard snickering and turned to find Isaac and Scott wide-awake with their hands over their mouths. 

“Well, that was certainly unexpected,” Isaac said sarcastically 

Stiles shot both him and his boyfriend a look, before turning back to Derek and kissing him again.

“You taste funny,” he said, frowning slightly.

“Huh,” Derek replied thoughtfully. “The last thing I ate today was a vegetarian carbonara.” 

“That’s it,” Stiles said, glaring good-naturedly. “We’re done. It’s over between us. Hope you enjoyed dating me for five minutes because that’s all you’re gonna get.”

Derek laughed and tried kissing Stiles again.

Stiles totally let him. 

***

Two weeks later they were sitting together in _Boulevard_ , celebrating Isaac’s birthday with the rest of the Full Moon team. Birthdays were a pretty big deal in the Attractive Brigade; they went all out. Jackson’s boyfriend Danny even made the trip down from Oregon just to celebrate with Isaac. Apparently, they had been friends in high school or something. Danny was also an honorary member of the Attractive Brigade, but Stiles was pretty sure to date Jackson, you had to be some sort of attractive. 

Scott had been especially adorable during the week leading up to Isaac’s birthday. Every day he surprised Isaac with a different gift, each gift bigger and better than the last. The first gift, on Monday, had been a new container of Isaac’s favorite protein powder. Tuesday’s gift had been a twenty-five dollar gift card to Isaac’s favorite coffee shop; the next day had been a voucher for a free two-person massage at the local salon. It was a _huge_ mystery who Isaac would bring as his second person. (Spoiler alert, it was Scott.) Thursday’s gift had been tickets to Maroon 5 in two weeks; they were Isaac’s favorite band. And if that wasn’t bad enough, on Friday Scott had surprised Isaac with a four day-three night cruise to Vancouver. Evidently, Isaac had always wanted to go there.

“Dude, Scott, boyfriend of the year has to go to you,” Stiles said, after Isaac got done hugging Scott as thanks for the cruise. “Seriously, you’re gonna ruin him for anyone else.”

“That’s kind of the plan,” Scott said, grinning and pulling his boyfriend close. “He’s had three years to find someone else, and he hasn’t. So I think I’m in it for the long haul.”

Isaac rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to Scott’s cheek. “I’m really only dating him because of the stuff he buys me.”

Everyone laughed at the sheer audacity of that statement. Whereas Scott was most likely to pronounce their love from the mountaintops, no one doubted that Isaac loved Scott just as much, if not more. He just had a different way of showing it.

But basically, it had been the best week of Isaac’s life. 

“It’s not all about Scott and Isaac though,” Jackson said grinning. “How about a round of applause for Stiles for being able to date Derek for a week? That’s gotta be the longest relationship you’ve been in your life, huh Hale?”

Derek glared at Jackson, but there was absolutely no heat behind it. 

“You should be thanking me, Jackson,” Stiles replied. “I’m pretty sure I’ve managed to tame the beast. How many times has Derek yelled at you this week?”

“Once.” 

“Okay, and how many times did Derek yell at you last week, before we started dating?” 

“Like fifteen.” 

“I rest my case,” Stiles grinned, leaning back against Derek. “You’re welcome by the way.”

The first week of dating Derek had actually been quite enjoyable. By no means was their relationship as affectionate or as cute as Isaac and Scott’s, they were in a league of their own. But the friendly touches that Stiles had become so fond of had started to increase in number and sensuality. Derek would still pat him on the back and he would still lean over Stiles’ shoulder to smell what he was cooking, but now he would wrap his arms around Stiles’ waist and kiss his neck. 

Stiles had a lot of favorite things about his new relationship with Derek, including the reduced yelling, but his absolute favorite probably had to be the naps in the employee lounge. He had even renamed Stiles’ loveseat to Stiles and Derek’s loveseat. Every day after lunch Stiles would collapse onto Derek’s lap and fall asleep to Derek running his fingers through Stiles’ hair. He was pretty sure that Erica had countless pictures on her phone, but he really didn’t care.

_Boulevard_ was one of the best restaurants in San Francisco according to Isaac and Scott’s research on Yelp, but Derek was not impressed.

“This menu is pretty bad,” Derek whispered to Stiles. “I’ve never heard of someone pairing panzanella with a steak tartar. And not every spinach salad has to have gorgonzola. I don’t understand how this place has a four and a half star rating on Yelp.”

“Will you quit it?” Stiles asked, smiling and shaking his head fondly. “Not everyone is a master chef like you, Derek. Normal chefs have to think outside of the box.” He nudged Derek with his knee, earning a smile out of the grumpy man.

 They were all seated at a table in the corner of _Boulevard_. Scott had made reservations for seven, but Danny coming had been Jackson’s present to Isaac, so the staff had to scramble to find an extra chair. Erica and Laura were making bets on how many gay guys each of them was going to make out with.  

Stiles had his money on Erica, but he could see how Laura could win too. 

He turned and saw Derek smiling at him.

“What’s up?” Stiles asked. 

“Nothing, you’re just really great,” Derek answered. “I never thought I’d meet someone like you.” 

“You’re pretty great yourself. I never thought I’d say that when I first met you, but you’ve really come around.”

“I have a confession,” Derek said softly. “When I saw you and your carbonara for the first time, I thought you were cute and I knew your carbonara would be good. I didn’t want you to work with me because I knew you would drive me crazy.” 

“Are you serious? What, you felt threatened by me or something?”

“No—not threatened,” Derek answered shaking his head. “I’m not the most social person, if you haven’t noticed.” He frowned when Stiles raised his eyebrows. “I just didn’t want to get too attracted to you and then have you get put off by me. So I figured that if you never worked with me in the first place, we would never have that problem. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I took the job then, huh?” Stiles answered. 

“Not at first,” Derek replied. “You really annoyed me the first lunch shift, and I was still trying to get you to leave. That’s why I shoved you into walls and cabinets.”

“ _Slammed_ me into walls and cabinets,” Stiles corrected, a huge grin on his face. “But go on.” 

Derek shook his head fondly. “But you stayed, and I saw how well you worked with Isaac and Scott. Erica loved you the second she saw you, and even Jackson respected you. I was kind of jealous that you weren’t that way with me.” 

“I mean I always thought you were attractive,” Stiles said. “But I _never_ thought you’d be interested in me. I thought you had some hot piece on the side, and the only reason you were chronically grumpy was because you weren’t getting it in.” 

Derek actually laughed at that. Derek had been laughing a lot more lately, and Stiles was pretty sure that he could take most of the credit for that.

“No, I didn’t have a sidepiece,” Derek said, grinning. “But I wanted to be your friend. I tried being nice to you after lunch, but I didn’t know if you liked be back, so I just kind of stopped.”

“Is that why you yelled at me for a month?” Stiles asked.

“I yell at everyone, but only if they’re not doing things right.”

“That hamburger was totally medium-rare,” Stiles said, grinning.

“It was rare, and I’m not having that conversation with you anymore,” Derek said. He grinned back, and Stiles was pretty sure that they just made their first inside joke. 

“But you’re not yelling as much anymore,” Stiles pointed out. 

“I’m not,” Derek answered, grinning slightly.

“Okay, so continue,” Stiles said. He waved his hand, indicating for Derek to tell the next part of his story.

“I don’t mean to yell,” Derek continued.  “I’ve always been a perfectionist, and I get upset when things don’t go the right way.”

“You mean when things don’t go _your_ way,” Stiles corrected. “Because that burger--” He cut off when Derek shoved him lightly. They _totally_ had an inside joke.

“Play nice, boys,” Laura said.

“Anyway, Laura told me that I should maybe try being nice to you,” Derek said, after he and Stiles had both sheepishly nodded their apologies.

“You talked to me about Laura?” Stiles asked.

“She figured it out,” Derek said. “She told me to invite you to the bar on Monday, and the rest is history.”

“So I guess I should thank your sister and our lucky couch?” 

“You can thank whoever you want,” Derek grinned. “Because I’m planning on keeping you for a while.”

Stiles leaned in and gave Derek a soft kiss on the lips.

“Hey, hey!” Erica interrupted. “I realize the two of you are blissfully in love, but if you could keep the kissing to a minimum that would be great. It’s Isaac’s birthday, not your anniversary.” 

Both Derek and Stiles rolled their eyes, because if anyone liked to watch them kiss, it was Erica.

“I’d like to make a toast,” Scott said, standing up. “I’m sure all of you know that Isaac have been together for three years.”

“You’re not getting married,” Derek muttered, low enough so that Scott wouldn’t hear. It wasn’t his angry growl. He sounded more annoyed than anything. Stiles guessed that it was probably because he was still upset about the menu. “Hurry up.”

“Isaac Lahey, you are honestly the best thing that’s happened to me,” Scott said, unaware of Derek’s comments. “I love everything about you. I love working with you every day, I love waking up next to your curly hair, and I love how sweet you are. I hope this birthday is as perfect as you are.” 

Isaac blushed and smiled as Scott kissed him.

***

“This place is packed,” Stiles said over the heavy music. “I had no idea that this many people came to nightclubs.”

“I know right!” Scott called back. “Thank God Danny knew the owner of this place and got us free admission and these free drink vouchers.”

“Dude, did you see the way Jackson gave the bouncer the evil eye though? I would never have pegged him for the possessive type.” Stiles was one to talk though. Given the way Derek’s arms were wrapped around his waist, Stiles was pretty sure he could cut Jackson _some_ slack. “And I still can’t get over the fact that you got us a fucking VIP lounge.” He gestured to the room around them, complete with lava lamps and Fireball, Isaac’s favorite alcohol. 

“It’s Isaac’s birthday!” Scott said, squeezing his boyfriend tight. “I had to go all out!”

“I think you could’ve stopped after Thursday’s gift,” Stiles laughed, leaning into Derek on their side of the couch. “Seriously Maroon 5 tickets? And then the cruise on Friday? Come on, boyfriend of the year goes to you, man.”

“Better be,” Scott said. He reached for the handle of Fireball but was disappointed to find that it was empty. “To the bar,” he called. “More shots for the birthday boy!” He took his boyfriends hand and led him down the stairs to the bar.

Isaac rolled his eyes and motioned for Derek and Stiles to follow. 

Derek held Stiles’ hips gently as they walked down to the bar. “He’s gonna be drunk by the end of the night,” he said in Stiles’ ear.

“We should probably get a hotel for the night,” Stiles said in Derek’s ear. “I don’t want Isaac to be the only one cleaning up after Scott. And that way neither one of us will have to drive back home until tomorrow when we’re sober.”

Derek nodded in agreement. 

Their bartender was a large muscular black man with a nametag that read  _Boyd_. Erica was already there and was looking at him the same way she had looked at Stiles during the cook off. He expertly poured a line of shots for the four of them, and gave Isaac a special one for his birthday. 

After four shots each, the Attractive Brigade dispersed into the crowd of bodies to go dancing. Stiles and Derek stayed close to the bar, just in case they wanted to take additional shots.

Stiles kept his back pressed to Derek’s broad chest and swiveled his hips in sync with his boyfriend’s crotch. Derek was still holding Stiles’ hips, and was guiding their movements in tune with the song. His face was buried into Stiles’ neck and Stiles could feel Derek’s breath tickle his skin. He reached one arm around the back of Derek’s neck and pushed Derek’s face closer into his neck. He took the answering growl to mean that Derek was enjoying himself.

Stiles surveyed the sea of people in front of him. The strobe light was making it difficult to see. He had long since lost sight of Jackson and Danny, but he was pretty sure that Jackson had Danny against the wall somewhere and was kissing him passionately. That just seemed like the kind of person Jackson was. 

“Look at Erica,” Derek said into Stiles ear, pointing towards the bar. 

Stiles followed his boyfriend’s finger, and laughed at what he saw. Somehow Erica had managed to get behind the bar and was making drinks alongside Boyd. And just like Stiles predicted, the gay boys were _clamoring_ to buy drinks from her. And judging by the way Boyd was looking at Erica, he didn’t mind that she was taking away most of his business.

“I think she’s enjoying herself,” Stiles said, leaning back against Derek. The song changed and he ground his hips against Derek’s accordingly. “I know I am.”

“Me too,” Derek replied. He gripped Stiles’ hips tighter and pressed his face into Stiles’ neck. “You’re really good at this,” he added, nipping at Stiles’ neck. “Too good. It’s driving me crazy.” 

“I take it you didn’t really go out much before we started dating.” Stiles stifled a groan as one of Derek’s hands made its way around Stiles’ inner thigh.

“Not before you, no,” Derek answered. Stiles had a hard time hearing him, because the music was so loud, so he pressed his back even closer to Derek’s chest.

“Look at Scott and Isaac,” he pointed. “I think Scott’s more excited for Isaac’s birthday than Isaac is.

Scott and Isaac were dancing relatively close to Stiles and Derek. They were dancing face to face, and Isaac’s arms were locked around Scott’s neck while Scott’s hands were dipping down to the curve of Isaac’s ass. It wasn’t exactly naughty, but it wasn’t exactly church worthy either. Isaac’s back was to Stiles, and Scott was looking over his shoulder. He caught Stiles’ eye and flashed him a thumbs up. Stiles grinned and imitated the gesture back at his friend.

“Someone’s definitely getting birthday sex tonight,” Stiles said, and Derek huffed his agreement into Stiles’ neck. “And it’s not even his birthday.” 

Isaac turned around and waved at both Stiles and Derek, he mimed going back up to the VIP lounge and Stiles nodded his understanding. He still wanted to dance though.

“Do you want to go back up to the lounge with them?” Stiles asked. He still had one hand around Derek’s neck and his other hand was guiding Derek’s hand around his inner thigh and groin. “Because I kinda want to keep dancing with you.” 

“I want to stay with you,” Derek answered.

Stiles wasn’t sure if there was a Grammy for Best DJ, but if there was, the DJ for Bootie needed one. Badly. He was mixing Top 40 with house music that had heavy beats and the resulting songs were intoxicating. Stiles wanted to stop and take a break, but he couldn’t because the music was so good. 

Derek was clearly enjoying himself as well, because one of his hands snaked it’s way up Stiles’ shirt and rested over his heart. Stiles may or may not have moaned as Derek began mouthing his way up and down his neck. He could feel Derek hardening against his ass, so he shimmied his hips a little extra to give Derek some encouragement. Derek squeezed the muscle of Stiles’ chest and bit down a little harder on Stiles’ neck and this time Stiles did moan. No question about it.

“Want you,” Derek said in his ear. “Want you so bad.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, bringing both arms around Derek’s neck. “How bad, big guy?”

Derek growled and pushed Stiles against the nearest wall. He pinned both of Stiles’ hands above his head and kissed him deeply.

“That bad, huh?” Stiles asked, trying and failing to keep the huge grin off his face. “You should probably hold off on that until we get to the hotel.”

“Can’t wait that long,” Derek grunted, gently nudging in between Stiles’ legs with his thigh. “Now.”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles replied breathlessly. “Let me say goodbye to Isaac and we’ll get out of here.”

He grabbed Derek’s hand and led him up the stairs. They found Isaac in the VIP lounge with Scott asleep on his lap.

“The alcohol finally hit him,” Isaac explained. “He’s about done for the night.” He ran his fingers through Scott’s hair affectionately, as he talked. “I think he’ll be okay, though.”

Stiles shook his head fondly Scott’s sleeping figure. “I’m sorry about that bud. Are you gonna need any help with him?”

“I doubt it,” Isaac replied. “He’s usually a pretty compliant drunk. I’ll probably get Jackson and Danny to help me. You guys go ahead. Derek’s got this look in his eye, and I’m pretty sure I know what he wants. Our hotel is the Marriott, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Stiles couldn’t reply because Derek was yanking him out of the lounge. “Hotel,” he growled. “Now.”


	9. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> THIS is the beta'ed version! It's all nice and polished thanks to my wonderful beta, bookgodess15. Sorry about the wait, we kinda got our wires crossed in communication. Never fear, chapter 10 is being written as we speak!!
> 
> Sorry about the wait!  
> -Kase

“We should probably talk about last night.” Stiles said, running his fingers through Derek’s hair. He was lying on his back and Derek was lying on his stomach, head buried in Stiles’ shoulder with one arm slung across his waist. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Derek mumbled.

“I mean, we consummated our relationship three different times in four different positions,” Stiles replied. The second round had gone into overtime. Sweet, sweet overtime.“You don’t want to talk about it at all?”

“You’re mine, right?” Derek asked, muffled by Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles hummed affirmatively.

“Then there’s nothing to really talk about,” Derek answered. “Go back to sleep.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You know we’re, like, official now, right?”

Derek huffed. “I thought we were official when you kissed me in the lounge two weeks ago.”

“No, we were. But now we’re like _official,_ official. Like when we see everyone later today, they’re gonna know you fucked me into the mattress.”

“I’d really prefer not to think about my co-workers knowing about my sex life.”

“Tough luck, Grumpy,” Stiles said, grinning. “Because I’m pretty sure they’ll know just by looking at me. Plus, I probably won’t be able to keep a straight face.”

Derek groaned and buried his head deeper into Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Having second thoughts about any of this?” Stiles asked. 

Derek made a non-committal noise and shook his head. “No. I just didn’t think you’d be this annoying post-coitus.”

“Guess I’m not as tired as I could be,” Stiles drawled suggestively. He felt Derek twitch and his arm tightened around Stiles’ waist. “Wanna go for round four?”

***

Forty-five minutes later, they met Isaac and amore-than-slightly-hung-over Scott in the lobby for breakfast. Scott had really done his homework and had made sure to pick a hotel that had an all-day breakfast bar. 

“How are you feeling today, bud?” Stiles asked around a bite of toast.

“Terrible,” Scott groaned. He pushed his scrambled eggs around on his plate and took a sip of juice. “I feel like I ate everything at Hometown Buffet and then rode all the rollercoasters at Magic Mountain.”

“That’s—oddly descriptive for a hangover,” Stiles chuckled, as Derek quirked an eyebrow. “But just for clarification, you don’t feel good?”

“I hate you,” Scott moaned, as Isaac kissed his cheek.

“You don’t.” Stiles said back. “If you weren’t so hung over, you would’ve laughed.” 

Scott grunted and leaned into Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac smiled and kissed his boyfriend again, this time on the temple. “Thanks for the great birthday again, babe.”

“Worth it,” Scott said, smiling softly. 

*** 

Stiles was pretty convinced that no one enjoyed these eight a.m. key staff meetings. The whole Attractive Brigade was present, plus Boyd. Apparently Erica had decided that he was more than a one-time thing and convinced Laura to give him a job bartending and waiting. Danny and Jackson were snoozing together, as were Scott and Isaac. Stiles was leaning into Derek’s shoulder on their loveseat, barely paying attention to what Laura was saying. 

“I’m glad that everyone had fun at Isaac’s birthday last weekend, but I hope you’ve gotten all of that out of your system. Beacon Hills Awards are just around the corner. I don’t need to remind any of you, but we’re going for five in a row.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Jackson asked. “Derek and Stiles are going to be doing the most work. It’s not really our problem.” 

“It actually is,” Laura answered. “The committee takes into account all aspects of the restaurant when making their decision. Granted, cuisine plays a huge part in it, but they also take hosting, waiters and waitresses and bartending into consideration as well.”

“Then we’re all set, right?” Stiles spoke up. “I’m not trying to brag, but no one can touch Derek and I when it comes to specialty dishes. Isaac’s the best host I’ve ever seen and ditto for Scott and Erica as waiters. And I’ve seen firsthand how good of a bartender Boyd is. I’m pretty sure we’ve got this in the bag.”

“I promise, I feel the same way you do Stiles,” Laura replied, grinning. “I feel like this is the best our restaurant has ever been. And I’m certain that we’re going to win five in a row. But I’m wary about the Argents and what they will do to win. Call it a premonition.” 

“I mean, Chris seemed okay,” Stiles said. Derek tensed slightly. “He came off a little creepy initially, but once I made it clear that I wasn’t going to work for him, he backed off. I feel like Allison is the wild card in this situation. She seems like she’s a couple cards short of a full house.”

“I don’t know how you managed to compare Allison to a poker hand, but whatever works for you,” Laura said, grinning. “But anyway, I just want all of you to keep up the good work. I think that’s it. Enjoy the rest of your morning and I’ll see you back here for lunch. Oh Boyd, can you and Erica hang around for a little while? I want to run through drink menus with you two.” 

As the Attractive Brigade, minus Erica and Boyd, filed out of the employee lounge, Stiles felt Derek take his hand and intertwine their fingers.

“Hi,” he said. 

“Hey,” Derek replied. “Wanna go get breakfast?” 

“Like a date?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Derek answered, grinning. “Like a date.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, waving to Scott and Isaac, who werepresumably walking back to their apartment. “Where are we going?”

“I was thinking that we could go to the café on 64th Street,” Derek said lightly. “They always have good muffins and good coffee.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Stiles said, frowning slightly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek answered, quirking an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You never complement other people’s food,” Stiles pointed out. “In the past month that I’ve known you, you’ve only said good things about yours, mine and Jackson’s food. Honestly, I didn’t think you ate anyone’s food but your own.” 

“I eat other people’s food,” Derek huffed. 

“Derek, I thought we were going to have to find a McDonald’s because you spent more time complaining about the menu at _Boulevard_ than deciding what you wanted to eat. And you ended up hating the filet mignon you ordered and you traded for my salmon, which you also hated.”

“That place shouldn’t have gotten a four and a half star review on Yelp,” Derek grumbled.

“So now you expect me to believe that this place has ‘good’ muffins and ‘good’ coffee?” Stiles asked, a grin appearing on his face. “This is terrific. You’re just full of surprises.” 

“They do have good muffins,” Derek said, leading Stiles down the street. “I promise.” 

Stiles shook his head fondly and allowed his boyfriend to lead him to the café. As they walked, Derek again slung his arm around Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles, in turn, wrapped his arm around Derek’s waist, and leaned into the other man. Derek began humming again, and Stiles couldn’t help but smile.

They got to the café, and it looked like Derek was a regular. The barista waved at him and he even offered a small wave back. 

“What?” he asked when he saw Stiles looking at him.

“It’s just still a little weird to see you smile and have a good time outside of Full Moon,” Stiles said, shrugging slightly. “But it’s nice. I like this side of you. I wish you would show it more often.”

“You would like that?” Derek asked doubtfully. 

“Absolutely,” Stiles said. He pressed his body to Derek’s and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “I mean, the grumpy chef thing is a total turn on for me, don’t get me wrong. But I think this friendly, softer side is what makes you so endearing.” 

Derek rolled his eyes as Stiles placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Whatever.” 

“Are you two going to order?” the barista asked. 

“Right,” Derek said, removing Stiles’ arms from his neck. “ Can I get two chocolate chip muffins and two vanilla lattes?”

“Of course, Derek,” the barista nodded. “I’ll have them out for you in a minute. Your usual spot?”

Derek nodded as he led Stiles to a table in the corner of the café. 

“You’re bringing me to your usual hangouts?” Stiles asked, eyes gleaming. “Wow, so I guess this is a pretty serious thing between us.”

“You’re the one who said we consummated our relationship four different times,” Derek said. “I come here a lot after meetings. But I like being around you, so I wanted to bring you to.” 

“I feel so honored,” Stiles joked, as the barista bought their order over. “I hope these muffins are as good as you say.”

“I like them,” Derek replied.

“Guess that means they have to be good,” Stiles said, as he took a bite. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Derek asked.

“Are you serious right now, Derek? These muffins are drier than the Sahara Desert. I don’t think all the milk in the world could make these moist. I can’t believe you would try to pass these off as decent muffins. Your muffin license should be revoked. And don’t even get me started on this latte.” 

“You’re making fun of me,” Derek said, grinning.

“How could you tell?” Stiles mocked. He leaned over the table and gave Derek a quick kiss on the lips. “But seriously my muffin is a little dry.”

“Well, isn’t this a cute scene. Derek, you didn’t tell me that you dated your sous chefs. Is that why the last one left? You broke up with him or he broke up with you?”

“What are you doing here, Allison?” Derek said, glaring.

“Well, I was out for my morning run, when I saw you two walking down the street looking all cute and couple-y. So I thought I would come in and say hi.” 

“Do you usually go for morning runs in knee high boots and jeggings?” Stiles asked, looking Allison up and down. “Because that just seems really uncomfortable.”

Allison gasped and quickly looked at what she was wearing, which did not look like a runner’s outfit.

“Yeah, you might want to go back and edit your story a little bit,” Stiles said, absentmindedly taking a bite of his muffin.

“Where’s the rest of your little entourage? Where’s Isaac?” Allison asked. 

“What does Isaac have to—“

“Isaac’s probably napping somewhere with Scott,” Stiles cut in. “He had a rough weekend, with it being his birthday and all. The deeper question is why do you want to know, Allison? With the awards right around the corner, I feel like your number one concern should be how you and your dear old dad are going to stop the inevitable from happening.”

“Which would be what, exactly?” Allison asked. 

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious,” Stiles replied airily. “Full Moon winning Best Restaurant for the unprecedented fifth year in a row.” He took a sip of his latte, keeping his eyes locked on Allison the whole time.  

“That’s not happening,” Allison spat. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“What is your deal, Allison?” Stiles asked. “I mean, I get that the awards are a big deal to the restaurants of Beacon Hills, but you seem to be taking it way more personally than the rest of us.”

“You don’t know me!” Allison almost cried. “You don’t know anything, Stiles!” 

“No, I don’t,” Stiles said nervously. “That’s why I asked you what your deal was.” 

“Do you know about the history of your precious restaurant?” Allison asked, her voice laced with venom. “Do you know how it became so famous?”

“Are you asking me or Derek?” Stiles asked, glancing at his boyfriend. “Because like you pointed out not too long ago, I’ve only been a sous chef at Full Moon for about a month. So I guess I don’t know the history. But I’m pretty sure you’re about to enlighten me.” 

“Derek?” Allison asked. 

Derek didn’t say anything, and just glared at Allison. 

“Right,” Allison snorted. “Figures. Typical Hales, taking advantage of other people.” 

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked.

“I’m talking about how my aunt is the reason why your precious restaurant is so famous,” Allison said. “No one ever talks about how Kate Argent was the original head chef of Full Moon. She was the one who made the restaurant famous but she was bought out by Peter Hale, who in turn gave the restaurant to his nephew and niece.” 

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” Stiles asked. “Your aunt used to work at Full Moon?”

“Yeah,” Allison answered, eyes narrowing. “She opened it with her boyfriend at the time, Peter Hale. But Peter only wanted Kate because she was a good chef, and as soon as Full Moon got popular, he bought her out under the table. But everyone only talks about how great Derek and his new sous chef are. No one knows the truth.”

Okay, wait,” Stiles said, frowning at Allison. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Allison’s story. He still wasn’t sure if he believed her. “How exactly does this affect you? Because I’m not really getting it.” 

“It affects me because not only did Peter buy Kate out of her restaurant, he smeared her name across the culinary world. So she had no choice but to found her own restaurant. It should’ve been more popular than Full Moon, and it should’ve won the inaugural Best Restaurant Award, but people were too blind to see it.”

“Right,” Stiles said, nodding slowly. He was definitely convinced that this was a touchy subject for Allison, but he still wasn’t sure why she felt wronged. She hadn’t really given him a definite answer on how the whole situation affected her.  But the last thing he wanted to do was escalate this situation into new territories of awkward. People were starting to stare. “So, where is your aunt now? Does she still work at Silver Platter?” 

“No,” Allison answered. “After she and my dad lost the first year, she snapped and attacked one of the judges. She was arrested for attempted battery, and thanks to Peter tarnishing her name she was imprisoned. I haven’t seen her in two years.” 

“I feel like you’re about to go all Scooby Doo on us and say something about Derek and Laura being meddling kids,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

“Shut up, Stiles,” Allison shot back, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t even been a part of this for that long. You’re almost irrelevant in all this.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Almost irrelevant? That’s funny.” Stiles interjected. “I’m pretty sure I became relevant the moment my carbonara was featured in the Beacon Hills Chronicle. By the way, Allison, I haven’t seen any of your specials in the newspaper. What is your special exactly?”

Allison leveled Stiles with a glare and Stile returned it with one of his own. He was not going to be intimidated by her. And he certainly wasn’t going to let her walk all over him in front of Derek. _That_ wasn’t going to happen. 

“I happen to be an employee at Full Moon, and I’m not going to sabotage _our_ chances of running the tables five years in a row because you feel like your aunt was robbed. Sorry, but that’s not going to happen,” Stile continued, glaring at Allison. “You can say I’m irrelevant all you want, but you and I both know that I’m not. So you can keep glaring at me but it’s not going to change anything.”

“You’re not going to win best restaurant,” Allison said. “I won’t let that happen. I’m not going to let all my aunt’s hard work go to waste.”

Stiles noticed that she changed the subject, but he chose not to say anything. Allison looked like she was coming apart at the seams, and as much as Stiles wanted to push her buttons, he didn’t want to cause an even bigger scene in the café; people were already giving them dirty looks. 

“Right, back to the restaurant awards,” Stiles said. “Because that’s what this is all about really. No personal vendettas against Derek, Laura, and _Isaac_ right?” 

Allison took a quick breath at the mention of Isaac’s name, but regained her composure quickly.

“I won’t rest until Silver Platter gets the recognition it deserves,” Allison said. “I don’t care who gets in my way.”

“That’s a little sinister,” Stiles replied, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “I don’t think there’s any reason to get violent with anyone. Not over restaurant awards, especially. And to be honest, I don’t even know why you’re angry with Derek and Laura, and the rest of our friends. They didn’t do anything wrong. You should be mad at Peter.”   

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Derek offer him a small smile. Stiles reached under the table and squeezed his boyfriend’s thigh in a silent supportive gesture.

“You shouldn’t get involved Stiles,” Allison replied, voice low. “This was never about you.” 

“Well it became about me,” Stiles shot back. “As soon as I took the job, I got involved.     Look, I’m sorry about what happened to your aunt, but that’s water under the bridge. Instead of whining about it, you should probably spend your time working on your dishes, because at this rate, Derek and I are going to wipe the floor with you at the awards.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Stiles,” Allison said softly. She threw them both one final glare before turning and walking out of the café. “Just stay out of it.”

Stiles shook his head and watched as Allison exited. “So… that happened,” he said, turning back to his boyfriend. He suddenly realized that throughout the conversation, Derek hadn’t said a word. “Are you okay?” Stiles asked. 

“Fine,” Derek gritted out. 

“You don’t look fine. You have that look on your face that you get when Jackson turns the stove on high instead of medium.” Stiles answered.

That earned a wry smile out of Derek, and he snorted softly. “Fucking Jackson,” he whispered. 

“Hey,” Stiles said softly, taking Derek’s hands across the table. “It’s fine. I’m over that whole conversation. She’s a little intense, but she’s not going to scare me away. We’re going to win five in a row, and she’s not going to stop us.” 

“She’s more than a little intense,” Derek answered, squeezing Stiles’ hands. “She’s dangerous. You know what she did to Isaac.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles muttered darkly, picturing Isaac’s sweet smile and happy, carefree attitude. “Trust me, I know.”

“Promise me that you’ll avoid her,” Derek pleaded. “I don’t want her hurting you too.” 

“Hey, I’ll be fine,” Stiles said, offering Derek a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“Promise me,” Derek repeated firmly. He squeezed Stiles’ hands again to the point where it was almost uncomfortable. “Promise me you’ll leave her alone.”

“I promise,” Stiles said. “If she approaches me and I’m alone, I’ll just walk the other way. I’ll only confront her if Erica or you are with me. How’s that sound?” 

Stiles grinned. They both knew that Erica held a special disdain for Allison, and if anyone was going to confront their rival sous chef, it would it Erica.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Derek answered, smiling softly.

“Good,” Stiles said, smiling back. “Erica won’t let anything happen to me.” 

“I won’t either,” Derek replied. 

“Good to know,” Stiles said, grinning. “So I better not burn or cut myself in the kitchens anymore. I expect you to be my chef in shining armor.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Derek answered, a smile fleeting across his mouth. He was visibly relaxing; the tension was leaving his shoulders and the frown was fading from his face. “Chefs don’t wear armor.” 

“Yeah, but chef in shining apron didn’t sound as flashy,” Stiles said. “And I wouldn’t peg you as a knight. You’re all big and strong with the muscles, but I just don’t see you with a lance and a shield.”

“Probably because people gave up _jousting_ back in the Middle Ages,” Derek teased.

Yep, he was definitely relaxed now. Crisis averted. 

“Don’t tease,” Stiles said, picking a chocolate chip out of his muffin and flicking it at Derek. “I’m a chef not a history major. And don’t act like you wouldn’t hop on a horse and joust against Chris to defend my chef-ly honor.” 

“That whole family is nuts,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. “I actually wouldn’t put it past him. They clearly have some issues with assigning blame.” 

“And look where it got us,” Stiles said, gesturing to the direction where Allison left. 

“It got me you,” Derek said quietly. His eyes were gleaming and the corners of his lips were tugged upwards.

“Nope,” Stiles said, shaking his head and grinning. “Nope, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to try and charm your way into my pants after I just had to deal with all that. That’s not going to happen.”

“Shut up and eat your muffin, Stiles,” Derek said, grinning right back. 

Stiles took a bite. “Oh man, it’s still dry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is welcome! 
> 
> Thanks for all the love and support!


	10. Panic

“So what do you usually do after muffins and lattes?” Stiles asked. He was still feeling a little bit jumpy from their altercation with Allison, and he wanted to do something with Derek to take his mind off her. “There’s still a couple hours left until the lunch shift. Do you take a walk? Go to Denny’s and critique their menu? Go to Baskin Robbins and complain about the consistency of their Rocky Road Ice Cream--“

“ _We_ are going to take a nap,” Derek said, cutting Stiles off. “Because today is Monday, and we both know what that means.”

“Carbonara Mondays,” Stiles muttered. “Terrific. It was fun for a while, but now I don’t want it to be Monday ever again. I wish we could just erase Mondays from the week entirely. Have the week be Tuesday through Sunday. No more Mondays ever.”

“You’re lying,” Derek said knowingly. “You love it.” 

Stiles tried frowning at Derek, but it melted away once he saw the smile on his face. Knowing that he was the reason that Derek was smiling made Stiles feel all giddy and happy inside. He broke off a piece of his muffin and pushed it against Derek’s mouth. Derek opened his mouth, but not before making a huge show of rolling his eyes.

“It’s still dry, huh?” Stiles asked, grinning. “That’s what happens when you use non-fat milk instead of whole milk for muffins. I learned that in culinary school.”

“So we should add muffins to your list of specialty dishes now?” Derek replied. “At this rate, we’ll have to open for breakfast so all of Beacon Hills can taste your world famous chocolate muffins.”

“You’re hysterical,” Stiles deadpanned. He took another bite of his muffin and chewed thoughtfully.

“You’re actually thinking about what breakfast foods you can make aren’t you?” Derek asked, smirking. 

“So nap?” Stiles asked, ignoring Derek’s question. “Your place or mine?”

“It doesn’t really matter to me,” Derek answered. “I share an apartment with Laura, but she never comes home in between morning meetings and lunch shifts. We could go there if you wanted.” 

“Well I live alone,” Stiles answered. “That’s even better. And there’s absolutely no chance on anyone coming in and interrupting our nap.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and grinned when Derek rolled his eyes.

“We’re going to _nap_ , Stiles,” Derek said, the exasperation clear in his voice, but it was laced with a hint of fondness. “Because if we don’t nap, then you’re going to be exhausted by your fourth pot of carbonara.” He stood up and took Stiles’ hand and started to lead him out of the café. “And I’m not making your specialty dish for you.” 

“That was one time,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “ And I drank an espresso from the employee lounge and I was fine for the rest of the night.”

“Nap now,” Derek said, head-butting Stiles lightly. “At _my_ place,” he added, noticing the gleam in Stiles’ eyes. “Then lunch, then nap again, then dinner, _then_ sex.”

“If I’m not exhausted after cooking all night,” Stiles muttered, leaning into Derek’s side as they walked to his apartment. 

“Oh no, you figured out my master plan,” Derek drawled. He let go of Stiles’ hand in favor of wrapping his arm around Stiles’ shoulders.

Stiles shook his head fondly and walked with Derek back to his apartment.

Derek and Laura lived in a duplex apartment on 74th Street. It was in the nicer part of Beacon Hills, which didn’t surprise Stiles one bit, since Laura owned the best restaurant in Beacon Hills. And Derek was head chef of said restaurant. Each of them was largely responsible for the success of Beacon Hills; regardless of whatever Allison had to say. 

“Nice digs,” Stiles said as he walked into the living room. “It’s home-y.”

“Laura decorated it,” Derek said. “She said it would be nice to have a comfortable place to crash when we got done working, so _voila_ ,” he said, gesturing around the apartment. He stripped out of his t-shirt and dropped his sweatpants, so he was standing in nothing but his underwear. 

“Well, it certainly looks comfortable,” Stiles said, looking Derek up and down. He knew from personal experience that being a chef was a physically taxing profession; they were on their feet the whole time, throwing around ingredients and pots and pans almost constantly. But Derek definitely put in extra time at the gym, because it looked like someone had carved him out of marble. “You look pretty comfortable too,” Stiles added.

“Nap,” Derek replied, once again rolling his eyes. “We can have sex later.” 

“Fine,” Stiles groaned, allowing Derek to lead him to the bedroom. He lay on his back and Derek flopped on the bed next to him, lying on his stomach. Derek wrapped one of his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulled himself closer to Stiles’ body. Stiles fell asleep to Derek’s rhythmic breathing and the comforting weight of Derek’s arm draped across his waist.

***

When Stiles woke up, he realized that Derek was gone. He had a fleeting thought that Derek had maybe gone off to work without him and he would get to take the day off, until he remembered that today was Carbonara Monday and he smelled the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen. 

“You’re making lunch?” Stiles asked groggily as he walked out of the bedroom. Derek was standing in the kitchen sautéing what looked like strips of beef. It smelled delicious, and the view was almost as good, seeing as how Derek was still just wearing his underwear.

“How much longer until work?” Stiles asked, wrapping his arms around Derek’s naked waist and kissing the nape of his neck. “You’re warm,” he mumbled into Derek’s neck.

“About an hour,” Derek answered, and Stiles could feel him chuckle. “There’s chopped up onions and peppers in the fridge, if you want them on your fajita.” 

“Fajitas for lunch?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah,” Derek answered, taking the beef off the heat. “Do you not like fajitas? I had to cook this beef today or it was going to go bad, and I hate wasting food.” 

“No, no, I like fajitas,” Stiles answered. “But it just seems a little elaborate for lunch. I usually just make PB&J before a shift, and then I’ll snack on lasagna during slow periods.”

He opened Derek’s fridge and was a little shocked to find that it was just as well stocked as the fridges back at Full Moon. There were chicken parts, fresh vegetables, juices, and eggs lining the doors and shelves. Stiles found the bags of onions and peppers and handed them to Derek. He also grabbed a bag of shredded cheese and placed that on the counter. 

“You’re a top-class chef and you make PB&J for lunch?” Derek asked doubtfully. He spooned the beef onto tortillas, and handed one to Stiles.

“I wouldn’t call myself top-class since I’m just a sous chef, but yeah, I make PB&J for lunch,” Stiles answered. “It’s not that big of a deal.” He reached for the fajita that Derek was offering, but was surprised when Derek didn’t let go of the plate.

“Stiles, you graduated from one of the top culinary schools in the country,” Derek said. He put the plate on the counter and placed his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles tried not to look Derek in the eyes, but he could feel Derek’s eyes boring into him, so he reluctantly looked up. “You could take that carbonara to Italy, and you could put some of the mom and pop shops out of business,” Derek continued. “I don’t know why you have all this self-doubt about your culinary skill set. Your carbonara was featured in the _Chronicle._ You have other chefs trying to get you in their restaurants. What’s your problem?”

“I—I can only make one thing,” Stiles muttered. “And then everything else is pretty average. I only have one section of the menu. You literally make almost ninety percent of the menu. You can work anywhere you want; I can only work in places where they have an Italian part of the menu. Otherwise I might as well go back to Denny’s.”

Derek sighed and kissed Stiles’ forehead. “You’re an idiot,” he said softly. “You can make everything on that menu as well as I can, if not better.”

“Except desserts,” Stiles said quietly. “Jackson still won’t teach us all of his secrets.” He offered Derek a small smile. Derek smiled back and pressed another gentle kiss to Stiles’ forehead.

“Okay, fine, except desserts,” Derek chuckled. “But you’re a good chef, Stiles. I don’t teach just anyone how to make my strip steak.”

“You only did that because you wanted to get into my pants,” Stiles said back. “And look how well that worked out for you.” 

“Right,” Derek snorted. “I taught it to you because I know you’re a good chef. I wouldn’t have told Laura to hire you if I didn’t think you were.”

“I thought Laura hired me because of my carbonara.” 

“Your carbonara played a huge part, yeah” Derek answered. “But the decision was mine to make, because I was the one who was going to be working with you. We’ve been over this.” 

Stiles pursed his lips and frowned. Derek leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss. “You’re a good chef, Stiles,” he said quietly. “And the sooner you realize it, the better off you’ll be.”

Stiles pulled Derek into a tight hug. For all his gruff exterior, Derek was a total softy. He seemed to know exactly what to say to calm Stiles down.

“Thanks,” Stiles murmured into Derek’s chest.

“Anytime,” Derek answered back.

“These fajitas better be good if they’re taking the place of my regularly scheduled PB&J’s,” Stiles said, letting go of Derek and taking a fajita and piling it with onions.

Derek rolled his eyes fondly and handed Stiles the shredded cheese. 

***

Forty-five minutes later they arrived at Full Moon. They waved to Isaac, who was tidying up the front of the restaurant in preparation for the day’s patrons. Scott and Erica were bustling around their sections, making sure everything was ready, but they both greeted Derek and Stiles warmly. Boyd was behind the bar, wiping down shot glasses and beer glasses.

“What’s up, big guy?” Stiles asked, walking over to the bar. “You’re working already? But it’s only lunch.”

“There’s a wedding reception here,” Boyd answered, not taking his eyes off the glass he was cleaning. “There’s an open bar, and Laura wants to see how well I do under pressure.”

“A wedding party?” Stiles asked, frowning. He was already mildly stressing because of Carbonara Monday, and now he had to add a wedding to the day’s workload. Today was just lining up to be astronomically busy.

“At least it’s not a vegetarian,” Derek said, nudging Stiles and smiling.

“Har-har,” Stiles said, shoving Derek back. “With his luck they’ll ask for virgin everything. Good luck today, Boyd.”

Boyd nodded his thanks and Stiles and Derek made their way back to the kitchens. Derek pulled Stiles into a deep kiss before they went to their respective stations. “You’re a great chef,” he said softly, kissing Stiles on the forehead. “You’re going to do great today.”

“The sex tonight better be _mind blowing_ ,” Stiles said, as he started to grab pots and pans for the copious amounts of carbonara that he was about to prepare. “I don’t want to remember my name by the end of it.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Derek said, grinning. He gave Stiles one last kiss before walking over to his station. “Who knows, today might not even be that busy.” 

It was definitely that busy. 

Both Stiles and Derek were running around the kitchen like chickens with their heads chopped off. Stiles was making pot after pot of carbonara, and Derek was making a massive amount of strip steaks, because apparently everyone in the wedding party had a healthy appetite. Scott and Erica were coming in constantly to take orders out and deliver new ones. Jackson wasn’t working until dinner, but thankfully he had some extra desserts in the fridge from earlier. Periodically, Derek would come over and kiss Stiles on the cheek, but Stiles couldn’t even respond, he was so busy.

They definitely did not have mind-blowing sex that night, either. Derek basically had to carry Stiles back to his apartment, Stiles was so exhausted.

On Tuesday, Full Moon was featured in an article in the Local section of the _Chronicle._

“Stiles, did you see the article in the paper this morning?” Isaac asked when Stiles and Derek showed up to work. “They basically wrote us in to win five in a row! And they had nothing but good things to say about you and Derek, the culinary duo that’s sweeping the city.”

“Told you were a great chef,” Derek replied nonchalantly. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, and skimmed through the article that Isaac was referring to. “It says that it would take a miracle for anyone to upset us,” he read. “They say that our biggest competition is Silver Platter, but they go on to say that their menu has stayed the same for the past five years and their repetitive style will probably hurt them. Well this is exciting,” Stiles said smiling, handing the paper back to Isaac. 

Isaac nodded his head up and down, and he looked like a cute little puppy. “Uh huh,” he said. “It’s exciting. I can’t wait for the awards. I mean I see you and Derek cook all the time, but it’s going to be so cool when you guys cook to win _Best Restaurant_  for a fifth year in a row.” 

“That’s the plan,” Stiles said, grinning. He looked Derek, who flashed him a knowing look.

*** 

Later that day, Allison came storming into the kitchens.

“What the hell is this?” she asked, holding up the article predicting Full Moon winning the upcoming awards. “I told you to stay out of this!” 

“You’re acting like I had something to do with that,” Stiles said. “And who let you in here?” He looked around the kitchen hoping that either Erica or Derek would come in for support. Derek had just gone to the bathroom, and knowing Allison, she probably waited until Erica was pre-occupied before heading into the kitchens.

“It doesn’t matter how I got in,” Allison snapped. “I told you to stay out of this and that it didn’t concern you. You’re making a mockery of my aunt just by being here.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes, because he was tired of hearing Allison moan about her aunt and her restaurant. “Allison, I don’t know what you want from me. I’m not quitting my job, and according to the paper you have no chance of beating us at the awards. So, my advice to you is to get over it, because I’m not giving you what you want.”

Allison narrowed her eyes and was about to say something before Erica waltzed into the kitchen.

“Hey Stiles, can I get three orders of—” Erica froze. “Oh, I can’t _wait_ to hear the explanation for this.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Allison expectantly. 

“I think Allison was just leaving, Erica,” Stiles said, desperately trying to avoid a fight in the kitchens.

“Are you sure she was leaving?” Erica asked as she walked towards Allison, stopping inches from her face. Their noses were almost touching. Erica tilted her head in a mock thoughtful gesture. “Because it looked like she had something to say to you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind saying it so all of us could hear.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Allison said, tilting her chin defiantly. “This is between Stiles and me.”

Stiles was going to point out that Allison had _just_ said that it didn’t concern him, but he decided that he didn’t want to give Erica any extra ammunition. 

“That’s fine,” Erica said, smiling. She started circling around Allison in a predatory fashion. “I don’t have much to say to you either, you already know how I feel about you. But I would advise you not to harass Stiles, Isaac or any of us here at Full Moon, if you know what’s good for you.”

Allison stayed rooted to her spot on the floor, but she kept her eyes on either Erica or Stiles the whole time. 

“Stiles, I need three orders of rotini,” Erica said, walking over and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ve got to get back on the floor. It’s _so_ hard being a waitress at such a _popular_ restaurant. Holler if you need anything.” She offered Allison one last faux-happy wave before exiting the kitchens.

Stiles turned his attention back to Allison, who seemed to be visibly shaken after confrontation with Erica. Her body language was tense, and her eyes were shifting to all corners of the restaurant.

“Just—just stay out of this, Stiles,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”  She turned and scurried out of the restaurant.

*** 

Stiles hadn’t planned on telling Derek about his encounter with Allison, but Derek found out from Erica. It then took Stiles twenty minutes to reassure Derek that he was fine, and Allison didn’t do anything.

“You should’ve came and found me,” Derek growled.

“Where? In the bathroom?” Stiles asked. He rubbed Derek’s biceps in an effort to calm him down. “It ended up okay. Erica scared her into submission. She probably won’t come around here anymore.” 

“Probably.” Derek snorted. “More like definitely.

*** 

Wednesday was much less busy and much more relaxed than Monday; there were no specials or wedding parties to add to the complications. Allison didn’t come in at all, which Stiles was incredibly grateful for. It was still busy, but Derek said that the article was probably still generating some added publicity, causing extra people to come in. 

Thursday was the Strip Steak Special, so Derek was churning out strip steaks like there was no tomorrow. Laura also came in that evening and announced that Boyd would officially be joining the Full Moon Team. 

On Friday, Allison returned during the dinner shift.

“Derek, Allison is in my section,” Scott said as he came into the kitchen. 

“What does she want?” Derek growled. Stiles watched as Derek clenched his fists and squared his shoulders in anticipation. “This is the second time she’s been here this week.” 

“That’s just it,” Scott replied, clearly nervous. “She’s in my section. Like she’s ordering food. She ordered a strip steak and a carbonara.”

“So she’s pulling a Plankton and trying to get the secret formula for our specialty dishes?” Stiles joked in an effort to lighten the mood. He got a chuckle out of Scott and a glare from Derek.

“She keeps staring at Isaac too,” Scott added. “I don’t like it. She keeps looking at him and then back at the kitchens. It’s making Isaac really uncomfortable." 

Derek visibly tensed up, and Stiles was quick to Derek’s side. He interlocked their fingers together and stroked the back of Derek’s hand with his thumb.

“You left him out there alone?” Derek asked slowly.

“No way,” Scott replied quickly. “Erica’s still out there and so is Boyd. And there’s still like eight customers out there. She’s not dumb enough to try anything when people are there, especially witnesses.” 

“What do you think she wants?” Stiles asked “Considering the last time she came here to threaten me, this is a complete one-eighty." 

“I don’t know,” Scott said nervously. “She asked about you though, Stiles. She wanted to know how you were doing, and if you were excited about being in your first competition." 

“What is her deal?” Stiles wondered aloud. “Two days ago she basically told me to forget about competing, and now she’s wondering if I’m excited?”

“I don’t know, man,” Scott replied, rubbing the back of his head. “What do you want to do?”

“Take the food out to her for now,” Derek answered, handing Scott a plate of carbonara and a strip steak. “If she keeps making you nervous, come find me, and we’ll ask her to leave.”

Scott nodded and started to walk out of the kitchens.

“Scott, wait.” Derek called. “Has anyone called Laura?” 

“No,” Scott answered. “She’s not working today.” 

“Call her,” Derek replied sharply. “She’s going to want to hear about this.” 

Scott pulled out his phone and walked back out to the floor. Derek turned around and let out a deep breath.

“It’s going to be fine, Derek,” Stiles said. “She’s trying to make us nervous.”

Derek fiddled in his pockets and took out his keys. “Here,” he said, thrusting them into Stiles’ hands. “Go to my place. I’ll meet you there as soon as we close up.” 

Stiles gave him a quizzical look and handed Derek his keys back. “I’m not leaving,” he said pointedly. “I don’t know what she’s planning, but it’s not going to work. I’m staying.”

Derek looked like he wanted to argue, but Stiles leaned up and kissed the argument out of his mouth. “It’ll be fine,” he said softly. “You’re my chef in shining armor right?”

Derek snorted and nodded. He kissed Stiles again before returning to his station. 

About ten minutes later, Erica and Scott walked back into the kitchens.

“She’s just _sitting_ there,” Erica said. Stiles could tell she was angry. Her usual ‘I’m hotter than you’ vibe had deserted her. Now, she just looked angry and fiercely protective. “She’s just eating her food, and smiling and waving at us every time we catch her eye. I just want to hit her.” 

“For once, I’m with Erica,” Scott grumbled. “I want her out. And I can’t get a hold of Laura either. Isn’t this like breaking the rules or something? You have to stay at your own restaurant during the lead up to the awards? What is she doing here?” 

“I don’t know,” Stiles answered. “But as long as she doesn’t cause any problems, I don’t know what we can do. Is she the only one out there?”

“Yeah,” Erica answered. “All the other customers went home. Boyd’s out there with Isaac to make sure she doesn’t try to burn the place down or something.”

At that moment, there was a large crash, a muffled yelp, and the sound of a door opening and closing. Stiles and the others rushed out to the dining room to find Boyd slumped over the bar with shards of broken glass and a large gash on his head, and no sign of Allison or Isaac. 

“Isaac?” Scott called. “ISAAC?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH NOES!


	11. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we talk about Monday real quick? Ericaaaaaaaaa. :( She was my favorite after Isaac. At least she went out with a bang. 
> 
> Also bookgodess15 deserves a medal for all the great work she's done.

“Hi, you’ve reached John Stilinski’s cell phone. I’m unable to come to the phone right now, so please leave a message at the tone and I’ll return your call as soon as possible—“

“Hey Dad, it’s me, Stiles.” Stiles said. “This is the third time I’ve called you and I _really_ need you to call me back as soon as you get this. We’ve got a problem down at the restaurant. Allison Argent kidnapped Isaac and assaulted our new bartender. We have no idea where she went, and we could really use some help right now. Call me back, bye.”

Stiles sighed and shoved his phone in his pocket. He looked over his shoulder and saw Scott pacing back and forth, but let it go until Scott kicked over a table.

“Calm down, Scott,” Stiles said. “It’s going to be okay. We’re gonna find him.” 

“How?!” Scott shot back angrily. He slumped into a chair and buried his head in his hands. When he looked back at Stiles his eyes were wet with tears.  “How are we going to get him back? We don’t even know where she went! And you can’t get a hold of your dad! I just want Isaac back,” he said, voice trailing off. The tears rolled off his cheeks and splashed onto his clenched fists.

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” Stiles said softly. He grabbed a chair and sat down in front of Scott so their knees were touching. He took both of Scott’s hands in his own and squeezed them gently. “We’re gonna find him. I promise.”

Scott nodded slowly and wiped his eyes. “I just hope he’s not hurt.”

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, struggling to find the right words. On one hand he wanted to assure Scott that Isaac was perfectly fine. But on the other hand they both knew that Isaac was probably tied to a chair somewhere in Allison’s clutches.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Stiles said slowly. 

“I just looked at the security footage,” Derek said as he walked into the room. “She waited until everyone left before she blindsided Boyd with a glass while he was checking his alcohol stock.  Then she pulled a burlap bag out of her purse and threw it over Isaac’s head and dragged him out of the restaurant.” 

“Dude!” Stiles exclaimed, glaring at Derek. “Try to be a little more sensitive,” he said, gesturing at Scott. 

“No, it’s fine,” Scott mumbled quietly. “At least she didn’t hurt him.”

Stiles nodded, but continued to glare at Derek. When Derek gave him a small shrug of apology he turned his attention to Erica and Boyd.

“How’s it looking?” he asked, as he walked over to where Erica was picking pieces of glass out of the wound on Boyd’s head.

“Fucking bitch hit him while he wasn’t looking,” Erica grumbled. “It looks like he’s going to need a couple of stitches. I’m trying to clean out all of the big pieces of glass, and then I’m gonna drive him down to the E.R. to get stitched up. You three go find Isaac. And if you find Allison, _someone_ needs to punch her in the face for me.”

Boyd winced and grunted as Erica ran a wet cloth the gash on his head, and Stiles patted his shoulder for comfort.

“Did anyone else call the cops?” he asked, looking around the room. “They’re going to want to hear about this.”

“No,” Erica answered. “Why would we do that? You already said that you were going to call your dad. Plus, we know Allison did it; Derek saw it on the security footage. There’s no point in getting the cops involved. You guys go, find Isaac, and rip Allison a new one. It’s pretty simple.”

Stiles shot Derek a pleading look for support, but Derek was nodding in agreement with Erica’s words.

“It makes sense,” he said angrily. “The more time we waste waiting for your dad to call you back and the cops to get here to tell us that they’ll ‘do their best’ to find him, the more danger Isaac’s in. We need to act now.” 

“Listen to me,” Stiles pleaded. “My dad’s the sheriff. If I tell him that this is urgent, I _promise_ he will suspend whatever it is everyone else is working on, and re-assign them to find Isaac. Trust me. He’ll organize a full manhunt if he has to. We have no idea where Allison took Isaac and we’re gonna need all the help we can get. Derek, _please._ ” 

Derek frowned. “Fine. Keep calling your dad,” he grumbled. “But I’m not waiting around for him to show up. They’re not going to be much help anyways. I’m going out to find Isaac. You can come with me if you want, or you can wait here.” 

“You’re so fucking _impulsive_ ,” Stiles hissed. “Fine. I’m coming with you. But only because I don’t want you to do anything you’ll end up regretting.”

Derek snorted and started walking out of the restaurant. Stiles sighed and followed him. 

“Wait!” Scott called. “I’m coming too. You’re not going to rescue Isaac without me.” He ran up to Derek and started walking beside him.

“Fine, fine.” Stiles said exasperatedly. “Erica, can you and Boyd call the cops from the hospital or something? Please. It would really help us out.”

“Only because I can’t be a part of the action,” Erica replied pointedly, gently toweling off the back of Boyd’s head. “But _someone_ needs to get in at least one good hit on Allison for me. I hope she doesn’t think she can get away with kidnapping Isaac and get away with it.”

“Yes, fine, I’ll break her nose or something,” Stiles said as he turned to follow Derek, who was halfway across the parking lot.

Stiles hurried out of the restaurant and jumped in Derek’s already started Camaro. Thankfully he decided to drive to work that day. As Stiles strapped in his seatbelt, Derek burned out of the parking lot before Stiles could close his door.

“Derek, you have to calm down,” Stiles said, stroking Derek’s arm, which had the Camaro’s transmission in a death grip. “Where are you even going?”

“Silver Platter,” Derek growled, not taking his eyes off the road. He made a right hand turn at around thirty miles per hour, causing Stiles to slam into the car door.

“Allison may be off her rocker, but she’s not an idiot,” Stiles pointed out. “Why would she take him back to Silver Platter. That’s gotta be the most obvious place to hide him.” 

“Well what do you think we should do, Stiles!?” Derek shouted. “Clearly you’re an expert at all of this! Maybe you should be the one calling all the shots. Or better yet, maybe _you_ should’ve been the one to call the cops. You and your dad could’ve worked some sheriff magic or something like that.” 

Stiles flinched when Derek started yelling and gave him a hurt look. “I-- I didn’t mean it like that,” he said softly. “I’m just trying to help the only way I know how.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek said quietly, noticing the pained expression on Stiles’ face. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just worried about Isaac.” He took his hand off the transmission and laced his fingers through Stiles’. “Allison makes me nervous, and I can only imagine what Isaac is going through right now.” 

“It’s fine,” Stiles mumbled. “We’re all on edge. But we’re going to find him. It’s gonna be okay.”

“So you don’t think they’re at Silver Platter?” Derek asked quietly. 

“I doubt it,” Stiles answered, glumly. 

Derek drove around town for another fifteen minutes, and the tense atmosphere increased with every passing second. None of them knew where to start looking and as the time passed, they all were becoming more and more on edge. Stiles could tell that Derek was nervous, because he was muttering things to himself. He was more of an action guy. He didn’t like sitting around waiting for things to happen, and not knowing if Isaac was okay, was eating away at him. 

Scott hadn’t said a word the entire time they had been in the car, and was on the verge of tears. When Stiles had asked him where he thought Allison could be, he simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head sadly.

Stiles tried calling his dad three more times while they were in the car, but all three times it had gone to voicemail. A lot was riding on his dad answering the phone. It would make the search a lot more thorough and intense, and Stiles would just feel a lot more comfortable about having his dad on the case.

After Derek’s third time driving by Full Moon, Stiles was ready to call the police, regardless of what Derek had to say. They weren’t making any progress just driving in circles.

“Derek, please, Let’s just call the police. They’ll be able to help. We’re not doing anything other than driving in circles.”

“What are the police going to do, Stiles?” Derek asked. “It’s not like they have any better leads than we do.” 

“Derek they’re the police. It’s literally their job. I don’t know-- Hold on, someone’s calling me. It’s probably my dad. Hello?”

“What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On?”

“Hi, Laura,” Stiles answered, not sure whether or not he was glad she called him or disappointed that it wasn’t his dad calling. “So I guess you’ve heard about our little problem.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Stiles?” Laura retorted through the phone. “What the hell happened? Are you with Derek? I’ve been trying to call him for the past ten minutes, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him.”

“Do you have your phone with you?” Stiles asked, turning to Derek. Derek’s eyes widened and he checked both of his pockets. “No,” he sighed. “I think I left it in the employee lounge. I don’t like to have it on me when I cook, and I was going to pick it up after work.” 

“Derek’s with me and Scott,” Stiles reported back to Laura. “He left his phone in the lounge.” 

“That explains why he’s not answering,” Laura sighed. “What the hell is going on?”

“Allison came into the restaurant for dinner, and she ended up assaulting Boyd and kidnapping Isaac,” Stiles explained. “Erica and Boyd should be on their way to the hospital, and Derek, Scott and I are out looking for Isaac."

“I know, I’m at the hospital with them,” Laura sighed. “Boyd needed three stitches. Allison got him pretty good.”

“Damn,” Stiles swore. “Tell the big guy to feel better soon. Have the cops gotten there yet?”

“Yeah, there’s three cops here. Erica called them once she got Boyd to the hospital. They’re busy taking their statements.”

“There’s security footage back at the restaurant,” Stiles said. “Tell them to look at that. It’ll give them the exact description of what happened since Erica wasn’t actually there, and Boyd never saw Allison coming.”

“Will do,” Laura answered. 

“Laura, ask them if they’ve heard from my dad,” Stiles said. “I haven’t been able to get a hold of him all night.” 

There was some muffled noise before Laura’s voice reappeared on the line. “Apparently your dad took the evening off,” she said. “They said he’s probably at home, napping. He worked a double shift yesterday.”

“Fuck,” Stiles swore. “That man can sleep through a hurricane, too. No wonder he hasn’t been picking up my calls.” Stiles didn’t miss the _‘I-told-you-so’_ look that Derek shot him, and he glared back in return. “I’ll keep trying, though. Thanks, Laura. I’ll keep you posted." 

“You guys _be careful_. I don’t want the three of you getting hurt either. And tell my brother not to do anything stupid.”

“Already done,” Stiles chuckled hesitantly. “I’ll let you know what happens. Keep me posted with my dad.”

“Okay,” Laura replied. “Call me periodically. I don’t want to have to send a search party out for you guys, and there’s no telling what Allison will do if she gets you and Derek in her clutches.”

“We’ll be fine,” Stiles said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Stiles. Good luck.”

Stiles sighed as he hung up the phone. “Boyd needs stitches,” he announced.

Derek growled and gripped the steering wheel even harder.

Stiles leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Derek’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured against the fabric.

He turned around and looked at Scott, who was huddled in the backseat. He had grabbed Isaac’s jacket from the coat rack and was clutching it tightly against his chest. 

“How are you holding up, buddy?’ Stiles asked softly.

“I’m-- I’m doing okay,” Scott mumbled, convincing no one. His eyes were still red and he wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Don’t worry about me.”

Stiles offered him a small smile before turning back to face the road.

“We need to look somewhere,” he said. “Because we’re not accomplishing anything just driving around in circles.” 

“Where do you want to look?” Derek asked. “I can’t think of anywhere other than Silver Platter, to be honest.”

“Neither can I,” Stiles groaned. “But it looks like that’s our best bet right now. So let’s just try that.”

“We could go to her house,” Scott spoke up quietly from the backseat. “She lives on the outskirts of town, by the freeway.”

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked, turning around in his seat.

“She tried to seduce me for recipes, remember?” Scott said darkly. “We actually used to be friends, until I got hired at Full Moon. Then she started trying to seduce me away from you guys and over to Silver Platter. One time she brought me to her house and tried to have sex with me. But I was still with Isaac, so I obviously didn’t do it. But she kept coming on to me, and finally I just had to tell her to stop. I haven’t really talked to her since.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “I didn’t know you had a history with her like that. Do you think she could’ve taken Isaac back to her house?”

“Maybe,” Scott muttered. “It’s far enough away that it’s not suspicious, but it’s also comfortable for her. It’s not much to go on, but it’s all I can think of.”

“What do you think?” Stiles asked, turning to Derek. 

“Let’s go,” he growled, accelerating on the gas.

***

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a neighborhood on the far end of Beacon Hills.

“That one,” Scott said, leaning into the space between the two seats and pointing at a house with green trim. “That’s her house. And that’s her car too.” 

“The lights are off,” Stiles whispered. “Do you think she’s home?" 

“Her car’s there,” Scott pointed out. “She probably threw Isaac in the backseat and drove him all the way here.”

“What about the other car in the driveway?” Derek asked. 

“Do you really care about that right now?” Scott shot back darkly. “All I want is Isaac.”

“Please, Derek,” Stiles said, grabbing Derek’s hand. “Let me call my dad; he can help.” 

“No,” Derek replied sharply. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is. You’ve already tried to call him multiple times, and he didn’t pick up. I’m not risking Isaac’s safety because you want to take the time to get outside help. We can do this by ourselves.”

“Scott?” Stiles asked doubtfully, turning around and facing his friend. 

“I just want to save Isaac,” Scott said softly. “The sooner, the better.”

Stiles sighed. He admired Derek’s fierce protectiveness of Isaac but if he wasn’t careful, his hot head and determined attitude were going to get them in trouble. Stiles had only been dating Derek for a month, but he was pretty sure that Derek had never gone on a recon mission during his career as a chef. Derek was slightly out of his league, and Stiles hoped that they all didn’t suffer because of it. 

“Okay,” Stiles muttered. “Let’s do this.”

Derek parked his Camaro a little ways down the street, and the three boys walked towards Allison’s house under the cover of darkness.

“Wait, do we have a game plan?” Stiles asked, as they stopped on Allison’s doorstep. “We can’t just ring the doorbell.”

“We don’t need a plan,” Derek growled. “We go in, get Isaac, and get out. It’s that simple. Her door’s unlocked anyways.”

“Derek, wait!” Stiles hissed, but Derek had already opened the door and was walking into Allison’s house.

“Shhh!” Derek shushed as he padded around the house.

“Isaac?” Scott whispered. “Babe?”

The floorboards creaked loudly, and in the darkness Scott walked directly into a wall with a muted thud.

“Listen to me, both of you,” Stiles hissed. “We need to be careful. We are in Allison’s _house._ It is pitch black in here and none of us know where we’re going. Don’t say you’ve been here before, Scott, because you just _walked into a wall.”_

Stiles heard Scott mutter something about remodeling and rolled his eyes. 

“You’re making noise too,” Derek whispered. 

“Look,” Stiles hissed. “Allison is dangerous. We’re literally on her turf. She’s already got Isaac. She could be standing in the hallway with night vision goggles with a baseball bat ready to brain us. Stick together and be _quiet_ _._ The last thing we need is for her to get us because you two were busy playing Alpha Male Rescue. Let’s find Isaac and get out of here.” 

Stiles’ eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness and when Derek stepped in front of a window, the moonlight illuminated his face, and Stiles could see his piercing green eyes fixate on him. 

“Come on,” Stiles said.

He stretched his arms out and felt his way around the house. He couldn’t find anything on the lower level, so he made his way over to the staircase. He stopped at the bottom and listened. When he heard voices, he hissed for Derek and Scott to join him.

“I hear voices coming from upstairs,” Stiles whispered. “It sounds like they’re angry about something, come on.” 

“I didn’t hear anything,” Scott muttered.

“They were probably talking before and now they starting to yell,” Stiles hissed. “That’s why we’re hearing them now.”

As the three made their way upstairs, the voices got louder, and Stiles realized that it was Allison and her dad yelling at each other.

“Have you lost your mind?” Chris yelled. “What were you thinking?”

“How else are we going to win?” Allison shrieked. “You won’t do anything! You’re just as bad as Derek and the rest of them! Kate would be ashamed of you!” 

“I’m doing it the right way!” Chris shouted back. “You can’t go around kidnapping our competition!” 

Their voices were coming from a room at the end of a long hallway. The door was partly open, and a beam of light was spilling into the hallway. Stiles could make out the shadows of Chris and Allison flailing around as they yelled at each other. 

“You’re a disgrace to our family!” Allison yelled. “If we had done things my way from the beginning, we would have already won Best Restaurant by now!”

“ _This_ is how you plan on winning best restaurant?” Chris yelled back. “Allison, this is _illegal_!”

As they slowly made their way closer to the room, Stiles heard Derek mutter something about not hurting a hair on Isaac’s head. Stiles turned around and pressed a finger to his lips, shushing both Derek and Scott. They both frowned, but nodded and continued making their way to the room.

When they were about halfway, Stiles almost tripped over a carpet on the hallway floor. The corners were overturned and the rug itself was matted and ruffled like someone had been dragged over it. Stiles thought of Isaac, and caught his breath. Allison must have drug him up the stairs and through the hallway before stashing him in that room. 

Stiles, Derek and Scott quietly positioned themselves outside the door and waited. Stiles peeked his head in the door and saw Chris and Allison screaming at each other. Chris was pacing around the room, and Allison was standing protectively in front of a drooping figure in a chair. 

Isaac.

“Allison, this is _wrong._ ” Chris said, dropping his voice. “This is so wrong and we’re going to get in serious trouble for this.”

“It’s going to be _fine_ ,” Allison shot back. _“_ We’ve already tried it your way and that was a massive disaster. So now we’re going to do it my way.”

Chris mumbled something that Stiles couldn’t understand and Stiles could see Allison crouch down in front of Isaac and cup his chin in her hands.

“Allison, stop.” Chris pleaded. “We can’t do it like this. We can win the right way.” 

“No way,” Allison said, standing up and walking over to her father. “I’ve done too much to stop now. You’re too much of an idiot to see it, but this is going to work.” 

Even though the yelling stopped, it didn’t seem like the arguing was going to subside anytime soon, and they needed to get Isaac out before Allison decided to hurt him even more.

“Okay,” Stiles whispered. “Are we just going to barge in?” 

Derek and Scott both nodded, eyes glazed with a steely resolve.

Stiles counted down from three and threw open the door. Allison and Chris stopped yelling when they heard the door open and stood frozen in their spots as Scott and Derek charged in.

Isaac was unconscious, shirtless and tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He was slumped forward but Stiles could still see that one of his eyes was swollen shut and his bottom lip was split open. A small stream of dried blood ran from his nose and the ropes were making angry red marks on his nude torso. He was tied way too tight.

“Isaac!” Scott called, making a beeline for his boyfriend.

Allison shrieked and lunged for Scott, but Derek was quicker, tackling her midair and slamming her against the ground. Stiles winced as her head bounced on the floor, and he was very thankful she had carpeting.

“What the hell?!” Chris yelled. He tried pulling Derek off of Allison, but Stiles, with no small struggle, pushed him against the wall, and pinned his wrists above his head.

“Everyone calm down!” Stiles roared. “Calm the _fuck_ down!”

Chris stopped struggling, but Allison continued trying to buck Derek off of her. Derek slammed her wrists against the ground in an effort to stop her, and when Allison continued struggling, Derek responded by straddling her waist, putting all his bodyweight on her and getting inches from her face.

“Calm down, or I will break your fucking wrists,” he growled.

Allison glared, but stopped moving.

 Scott was busily untying Isaac. 

“Okay,” Stiles said, exhaling deeply. He turned his attention back to Chris. He was honestly surprised he had managed to hold him against the wall for this long. “I’m going to count to three and I’m going to let you go, and Derek is going to let Allison up, okay? And then we’re going to talk about what the _hell_ is going on here. Do you understand?”

Chris nodded.

“Allison?” Stiles asked.

Allison didn’t say anything at first, but Derek squeezed her wrists tighter until she cried out in pain and nodded.

“Okay,” Stiles exhaled. “One. Two. Three.”

Stiles let go of Chris’ wrists and backed away slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Derek glare at Allison for a couple extra seconds before allowing her to get up.

Stiles walked over and stood next to Derek, and Allison did the same to Chris. Stiles didn’t miss the withering glare she shot Scott, who was cradling Isaac’s face in his hands.

“Baby?” Scott whispered. “Baby, it’s me. You’re safe. I’m right here.” He pressed his forehead to Isaac’s and pressed a small kiss to his lips.

“Scott,” Isaac murmured.

“I’m right here, baby,” Scott cooed. “What hurts?”

“Face,” Isaac mumbled. He licked his lips and tried to raise his head to look at Scott. He got about halfway before his head slumped back down against his chest. “Face hurts,” he whispered, so quietly that Stiles had to strain his ears to hear him. “And ribs.”

Stiles walked over to Isaac and ran his fingers through his curls as Scott continued to whisper comforting words and untie him. Isaac’s breathing was very shallow and he looked like he was drifting in and out of consciousness. Allison had really done a number on him. 

“I was so worried,” Scott murmured, as he untied the ropes around Isaac’s chest.

Stiles frowned when he saw the angry black bruises that were covering Isaac’s ribs. What he initially thought had been rope burns were actually bruises that wrapped around Isaac’s chest and back.

“Baby, can you hear me? I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.”

As Scott undid the last rope, Isaac slumped forward. Scott quickly caught him and propped him back against the chair. “Almost done, baby,” he promised. “I’m so, so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“No. S’okay,” Isaac mumbled into Scott’s embrace. “’S’not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Scott said angrily. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with this _bitch_ ,” he added, glaring at Allison. He undid the ropes tying Isaac’s wrists to the arms of the chair, and pressed a small kiss to the underside of Isaac’s right wrist.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Cold,” Isaac said, shivering slightly.

“Okay, okay,” Scott said quickly. “It’s okay. Do you want my shirt?” He didn’t wait for an answer and started unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off.

Isaac nodded and made a small noise when Scott wrapped the shirt around him.

“I love you,” Scott told him as he untied the last of the ropes. He breathed a huge sigh of relief and gave Isaac a small kiss on the forehead.

“Love you too,” Isaac mumbled, and Stiles was pretty sure he passed out right then and there.

“He’s fine,” Scott announced, looking around the room. When he met Allison’s eye, he leveled her with a venomous glare. “I’m gonna go clean him up in the bathroom; these bruises look nasty.” He picked up Isaac’s limp body bridal style, and carried him out of the room.

“Bathroom’s on your left,” Chris said helpfully.

“I _know_ where it is,” Scott answered darkly, not bothering to turn around.

“Okay,” Stiles sighed, once Scott had exited the room. He walked back over and stood by Derek’s side. “Would either of you mind telling us what the _hell_ just happened?”

Allison glared and opened her mouth to speak, but Chris stepped in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he started, looking at Stiles. “I had no idea what was happening. I came by Allison’s house because she missed work this evening and she texted me that she wasn’t feeling well, but she had a surprise for me at her house.”

“Do you always come running at your psycho daughter’s beck and call?” Derek spat, clenching his fists.

“I had no idea that she kidnapped Isaac until I got here,” Chris said.

Derek took a step forward, clearly angry at being ignored, but stopped when Stiles grabbed his hand.

“She was trying to get secret recipes from the Hale family out of Isaac by torturing him,” Chris said. “I got here right as she was starting to get out the knife. We started arguing, and that’s when you three showed up.”

“You really expect me to believe that you had no idea that your daughter had kidnapped Isaac?” Derek said. 

“I didn’t!” Chris exclaimed. “I had no idea! I mean, had no idea that any of this was going to happen. I’m just as shocked as you are. How would you feel if your daughter had another human being tied up an bloodied sitting in her house?" 

“It wasn’t like--“

“Right, that reminds me.” Stiles said, cutting Allison off. “We all saw the bruises on Isaac’s chest. I know Allison is dangerous, but there’s no way she inflicted those wounds.”

“No, she did,” Chris muttered. “Kate and her father Gerard were really into mixed martial arts and stuff, and they took Allison to a few classes. She picked it up really fast, so she definitely left those bruises. I didn’t touch Isaac, I promise.”

Stiles felt Derek tense next to him, so he quickly grabbed his hand again.

“I’m calling the cops,” he said, pulling out his phone. “She assaulted him. She’s going away.”

“No, please don’t,” Chris pleaded. “Please. Let me take care of her. I don’t want anything to happen to her in jail. She’s all I have left. Let me get her the help she needs.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Derek growled. “She _assaulted_ him for no reason. And how are we supposed to explain what happened to him when we take him to the emergency room? What are we supposed to say; he tripped? ”

“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for Stiles,” Allison said angrily. She took a defiant step forward and glared at Stiles and Derek.  “I told him to stay out of this multiple times, but he never listened. It’s his fault that I had to kidnap Isaac. Everything is his fault!”

“Allison, calm down,” Chris said. “You’re not making any sense.”

“No, shut up, Dad!” Allison screamed. “You’re _useless!_ I’ve been asking you for _weeks_ how we were going to compete ever since Full Moon hired Stiles and his ‘heavenly’ carbonara. I told you that we needed to come up with something new to beat them or bribe the judges, but you said we had to do it the right way. And look where that got us!”

“Allison, you’re not making any sense,” Chris said softly. “Kidnapping Isaac doesn’t accomplish anything.” 

“Yes it does!” Allison shrieked. “God, Dad you’re so stupid! If we took out Isaac, then that means that we could finally get Scott to come work for us. Scott and I are meant to be together!”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open and he felt Derek stiffen.

 “And if Scott left, then I could finally take out that bitch, _Erica_ ,” Allison spat, venom dripping from her voice at the sheer mention of Erica. “I hate her. She and Scott always work at the same time, and I could never take her out with Scott watching me. But once Scott started working for us, I could take her out like a sitting duck.” 

“I don’t think Erica has ever been a sitting duck in her life,” Stiles pointed out. “She’s much to pretty for that. Maybe a sitting swan, maybe? Something a little more graceful?”

“Shut _up,_ Stiles!” Allison shrieked. ”You were next! Once I got rid of you and your carbonara, then Derek would be devastated because his little boyfriend was gone. Then he would’ve lost the competition, I would’ve won and Kate would finally have the recognition she deserved. And _you_ would be in the ground.”  

She snarled and lunged at Stiles, who flinched out of instinct. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Derek step protectively in front of him, while Chris grabbed Allison by her upper arms to restrain her.

“It’s okay, Allison,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s _not_ ,” Allison sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “It’s all wrong! Scott should be with me, and _they_ , shouldn’t be living off of Kate’s hard work. It’s _not_ okay.” She collapsed into tears and sobbed into the carpet. Chris patted her back as he shook his head sadly.

Stiles would’ve felt sympathetic, except he remembered how cruel Allison had been, not to mention the fact that she just kidnapped Isaac.

That, and his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kiddo. It’s me. Where the hell are you and what the hell is going on?”


	12. Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta's the best!!

“Dad, Thank God,” Stiles said into the phone. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m driving to Full Moon,” John answered. “You’re still there, right?”

“No, we’re at Allison’s house. She lives in the neighborhood by the freeway, take exit 93. I think we turned on Montgomery Street. Look for Derek’s Camaro; it’s black and shiny, you can’t miss it. We’re parked down the street, but it’s the house with the green trim.” 

“You’re at Allison’s house? Stiles, are you all right? What about everyone else?”

“We’re fine, dad,” Stiles replied. “All of us are fine, except Isaac, who got roughed up pretty bad. Scott’s cleaning him up in the bathroom. But Derek and I are here with Allison and Chris and we’re gonna need you to get down here and do your Sheriff duty, because I want Allison in jail for what she did to Isaac.”

Allison, who was still crying softly on the floor, looked up at the sound of her name.

Stiles glared down at her, all feelings of sympathy gone.

“What happened to Isaac?” John asked. “Is he okay? Do you need me to radio for an ambulance?” 

“No, I don’t think an ambulance is necessary,” Stiles answered. “Allison roughed him up pretty bad, but I think he’ll be okay. Scott’s probably gonna take him to the hospital after we finish up here.”

Allison looked like she wanted to murder Stiles, which was a pretty reasonable assumption considering she said that he was number three on her hit-list, after Isaac and Erica. 

“Stiles, you don’t have to do this,” Chris said quietly. “I can get her help. Let me take care of her, she’s all I have left. I promise I will make sure she never hurts anyone again. You have my word.”

“One of my best friends is in the bathroom with a black eye and bruised ribs courtesy of your daughter,” Stiles said, eyes narrowing. He held the phone away from his mouth so his dad wouldn’t hear what he was saying. “She kidnapped him and dragged him back to her house where she planned to use him as leverage for her own selfish desires. If you think any of us are going to overlook that, you’re sadly mistaken." 

Chris nodded his head sadly and stroked Allison’s hair.

“Stiles, are you still there?” John asked through the phone. “I’m about ten minutes away. Can you hold on until then?”

“How are you ten minutes away?” Stiles asked. “If you were on your way to Full Moon, how is that possible?”

“I turned on the siren, I’m speeding, and I ran a couple of red lights,” John answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll be damned if anything happens to you in this town while I’m still sheriff. Sit tight, and I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, Dad,” Stiles answered. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Stiles hung up the phone and turned to Derek. “My dad’s on his way,” he said, looking Derek in the eyes. “He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

Derek nodded and folded his arms across his chest. He looked over at Allison, who was still lying on the carpet, and frowned. “Good,” he said. “I hope her they lock her up for a long time.”

“That’s the plan,” Stiles replied. “I’m gonna go see how Isaac is doing.”

Derek nodded again and Stiles walked down the hallway to the bathroom, where he found Scott and Isaac.

Isaac was sitting on the toilet and Scott was kneeling down in front of him, wiping the dried blood off his face with a damp washcloth. There was an open bottle of witch hazel next to a bag of cotton balls, and judging by the shine on Isaac’s torso, Scott had applied some short term treatment for Isaac’s bruises. Isaac was gingerly cradling his right wrist, and was still shivering slightly even though he had Scott’s shirt draped around his shoulders. 

“Hey buddy,” Stiles said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Isaac replied. “I think my wrist is sprained. And my ribs still hurt a little bit, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“What did she do to you?” Stiles asked. 

Isaac took a deep breath and squeezed Scott’s hand. “Um, she asked me for all the ingredients in your carbonara. I told her I didn’t know and she punched me in the face. Then she asked me what blend of seasoning Derek used on his strip steak. I didn’t know that either, so she punched me in the nose.”

Scott muttered something indiscernible and gently put some gauze on Isaac’s eye.

Isaac winced and bit his lip.

“Sorry,” Scott said. 

“It’s not your fault,” Isaac answered.

“My dad is on his way,” Stiles said softly, running his fingers through Isaac’s curls. “He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

“They’re gonna lock her up right?” Scott asked through gritted teeth. “Because if she gets anything less than five years, I’m going to be pissed. Look at his ribs!” 

“I know, buddy,” Stiles agreed. “I want her locked up too. How did you get those bruises on your ribs, Isaac?”

“Oh, she dragged me up the stairs,” Isaac explained. “I think that’s how I sprained my wrist too. And then when she tied me to the chair she told me all the reasons I was wrong for Scott and I was standing in the way of their beautiful relationship. Then she did some ninja palm attack and that’s probably where most of the bruises came from.” 

“What do you mean, our beautiful relationship?” Scott asked. “We’re not even friends anymore. I haven’t talked to her since she tried to sleep with me.”

“She thinks you belong together,” Stiles said. “She basically had this master plan of getting rid of me, Erica and Isaac, putting Full Moon out of business and running off into the sunset with you.”

“Well that’s never going to happen,” Scott muttered darkly. “I don’t want anything to do with her after tonight. If I never saw her again, that would be fine with me.”

Stiles chuckled and patted Scott on the shoulder. “I hear that,” he said, grinning. “I wonder whether they’ll send her to jail or an asylum. Either way, she’ll be there for a long time, so I hope she’s comfortable.” 

“She needs to go to an asylum,” Isaac said quietly. “She’s nuts. But is it bad that I want to see her self-destruct when the sheriff gets here? I don’t want the last memory of her to be her punching me in the ribs.”

Scott grinned and helped Isaac stand up. Isaac wasn’t exactly limping, but he wasn’t walking upright either, so he draped his arms around Scott and Stiles’ shoulders. They made their way back to the room, where Derek was staring down Allison and Chris. Allison’s eyes were still wet with tears but that didn’t stop her from glaring at Isaac and Stiles when they walked back in. 

“Scott, please,” she choked out. “Can’t you see we’re meant to be together? You and me, working together at Silver Platter and when Kate gets out of jail we could all work together! It would be perfect.” 

“I’m happy with Isaac,” Scott answered, gently lowering Isaac onto a couch. He sat next to Isaac and threaded Isaac’s fingers through his own.

Once he was sure that Isaac was settled in, Stiles walked over and stood by Derek

“And I would never work with you. Not after what you did today,” Scott added.

“I did it for us!” Allison said, fresh tears streaming down her face. “Don’t you see? I was there for you before you started working at Full Moon? I was there for you when you were going through a rough patch with Isaac. It’s always been me!” she sobbed.

“You’re crazy,” Scott muttered. He turned away and looked out the window. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

That set Allison off. Thankfully, Chris was still holding her because she lunged at Isaac. 

“Allison, enough,” Chris said sternly, holding her in place. “It’s over; you brought this on yourself.”

“I’m not going to stop,” Allison said, fixing her gaze onto Stiles. “And you’re just scared.” 

“Scared of what?” Stiles asked.

“That I would beat you at the Restaurant Awards,” Allison said, a crazed grin appearing on her face. “That’s why you called your dad. Because you knew that when it came down to it, you’re nowhere near as good a chef as Derek, my dad or me. You’re just an idiot savant.” 

“My carbonara has been featured in the _Chronicle_ ,” Stiles pointed out. “I haven’t seen any of your dishes featured anywhere.”

“You’re just a one-trick pony,” Allison said. She was starting to laugh and it was making Stiles uncomfortable. “You can only make one thing. Once the judges get past your carbonara and ask you to make something else, you’re going to be screwed. All that beginners’ luck will have run out.” 

“I can make other things,” Stiles said weakly.

“Like what?” Allison asked, predatory grin sweeping across her features. “PB&J? Everyone can make PB&J, Stiles. It’s not that hard." 

“You’re nuts,” Stiles said.” 

“Oh? You can make more than PB&J?” Allison asked. “Did your boyfriend teach you how to make his strip steak?” she asked in baby talk. “Big deal. The judges aren’t going to enjoy eating the same dish twice.” 

“That’s—that’s not all,” Stiles sputtered. 

“And don’t even get me started on the secret ingredient,” she continued. “If it’s not bacon or pasta, you’re gonna be up shit creek without a paddle. Admit it, Stiles,” she said, lowering her voice. “You know you can’t beat us, and that’s why you’re getting me locked up.” 

Stiles was silent and bowed his head. For once in his life, he had no idea what to say. Allison was taking all of his insecurities as a chef and throwing them back in his face. 

“You’re getting locked up because you kidnapped Isaac,” Derek growled, stepping in front of Stiles. “That’s the bottom line. And even if you hadn’t kidnapped Isaac, we would’ve beaten you at the awards anyway.” 

“Big bad boyfriend to the rescue?” Allison asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Stiles, does he cook your dishes for you, too?” 

“Shut up,” Stiles said quietly.

Allison threw back her head and cackled. “Get off me,” she said, shaking herself out of her dad’s grip. She stood up and started walking over towards Stiles and Derek. Stiles found himself shrinking behind Derek’s larger figure, but he couldn’t escape Allison’s eyes. 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” she said, grinning mischievously. “I’m not even that mad. I mean, sure, you ruined my plan to get Scott away from Isaac, but that’s water under the bridge.” She looked over Stiles’ shoulder at the couple in question, and blew each of them a kiss.

Derek frowned and blocked Allison’s path to Stiles, Scott and Isaac. 

“Down boy,” Allison said. “I can hear the sirens. I know when I’m beaten. I just want to talk to Stiles some more.” 

“You’re crazy,” Stiles whispered. He looked at the ground, desperate to break eye contact.

“Maybe,” Allison replied. “But guess what? I’ve been talking to my aunt, and guess who’s up for parole soon?”

Stiles didn’t answer, but he saw Derek tense up out of the corner of his eye.

“That’s right,” Allison said, smirking. “Kate is up for parole. I’ve been going in during visiting hours, and I’ve made friends with some of the officers. They’ve assured me that Kate’s behavior has been _very_ good, and they would be shocked if she didn’t get released early. And by early, I mean just in time to compete in the awards.”

Stiles felt his mouth go dry.

“So even if you could beat me, trust me, you don’t have a prayer against Kate.”

“That’s enough,” Derek said. He started to say something else, but jerked his head at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Stiles?” Stiles heard his dad call. “Stiles, where are you?”

“We’re in here, Sheriff,” Derek yelled back, when Stiles’ words failed him.

Stiles looked up as his dad and two of his deputies barged into the room. One of the deputies, Williamson, made a beeline for Allison and had her hands in cuffs behind her back faster than Stiles had ever seen. 

“Allison Argent, you are under arrest for the assault and kidnapping of Isaac Lahey and for the assault of Vernon Boyd IV.”

Allison sighed dramatically and listened as Williamson read her rights. 

The other deputy, Lopez, rushed over to Isaac and pulled a first aid kit out of nowhere and started tending to Isaac’s bruises.

“Stiles!” John said, pulling Stiles into a tight hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Stiles mumbled, wrapping his arms around his dad. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you alright, kiddo?” John asked. “Did she hurt you?” he asked, turning to Allison.

“Of course not, Sheriff,” Allison answered, voice sickly sweet.

Derek cleared his throat. “I think we should do this down at the station,” he said, taking Stiles’ hand. 

John’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You must be Derek Hale, head chef of Full Moon and my son’s boyfriend.”

Derek nodded. “That is correct, Sir,” he said. He extended a hand to shake.

Stiles shut his eyes. The last thing he needed today was for his dad to disapprove of his choice in boyfriends. 

Thankfully, a smile appeared on John’s face and he shook Derek’s hand enthusiastically. 

“A pleasure to meet you, son,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and I’ve had your steaks a lot more than Stiles would’ve liked.” He flashed Stiles a grin, but Stiles could only return it with a half-hearted smile.

“Are you sure you’re okay, son?” John asked, concern creeping onto his face. 

“He’s had a rough day,” Derek said, thankfully coming to Stiles’ rescue. “I’m sure everything will be fine later. We should probably get down to the station. The sooner Allison goes away, the better it will be for all of us.” 

“Right,” John nodded, still eyeing Stiles warily. “Williamson, let’s get her into the cruiser. I’ll see you boys down at the station?”

“Of course, Sheriff,” Derek answered. “We’ll be right behind you.”

John and Williamson started walking down the stairs. Williamson was holding Allison by the elbow, because her hands were cuffed behind her back. Chris followed them looking morose. Isaac draped himself between Lopez and Scott, and they helped him down the stairs. Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand and gave him an uncertain look.

“Are you okay?” he asked doubtfully.

“Fine,” Stiles muttered, still avoiding eye contact. “Let’s just get down to the station. The sooner we can get home, the better.” 

Derek frowned, but wisely didn’t push the subject.

The drive down to the station was tense and awkward. It was just Derek and Stiles in the Camaro, since Isaac and Scott elected to ride in Lopez’s cruiser to the station. Stiles was looking out the window, but he could still see Derek shooting him concerned looks in the mirror’s reflection. 

“She’s wrong, Stiles,” Derek said finally. 

“Please, Derek. Not now,” Stiles answered. “I just want to go home.” 

Once they got down to the station, John took everyone aside so he could take statements individually. Isaac was in the room the longest, for obvious reasons. Stiles and Derek watched as Williamson took Allison’s mug shots and Stiles winced as Allison winked and waved as she was led to her cell.

“Am I going to be able to read the newspaper while I’m here?” Allison asked, loud enough for Stiles to hear.

“Depends on how you behavior is,” Williamson answered. “You’re only going to be here until your trial date is, but it all depends on how you behave.”

“Well as long as I get to read the article about Full Moon getting their streak snapped,” Allison answered. “I’ll be on my best behavior for that.” She offered Stiles one last smile before Williamson locked her in her cell.

Stiles was going to be sick. 

“Stiles, are you okay?” John asked. 

“Fine,” Stiles answered weakly. “Are we done here?” he asked, looking from John to Derek. “I just want to go home.”

John nodded, clearly oblivious to Stiles’ problem. But Derek frowned and grabbed Stiles’ hand.

“Thanks for taking care of him today, Derek,” John said, clapping Derek on the shoulder.

“Of course, Sir,” Derek replied.

“I expect to be seeing a lot more of you,” John said, grinning. “How about the three of us go out for breakfast sometime?”

“I—I don’t see why not,” Derek said, glancing at Stiles. “How about the Sunday after the competition?” 

“Perfect,” John said, smiling. “I’d say Full Moon, but you guys don’t serve breakfast. So, what about the diner down on Main Street?”

“Sounds perfect, Sir,” Derek replied. “We’ll see you there.” He waved to John before leading Stiles into the parking lot. 

“Your place or mine?” Derek asked as they got in the car. 

“Yours,” Stiles said softly.

Derek nodded and started the car. When they got to the apartment, Laura was already asleep, but there was a post-it note on Derek’s door, informing them that there was an emergency meeting at eight the next morning. 

“She probably wants to talk about what happened tonight,” Derek said, throwing the note in the trash. He led Stiles into the bedroom.

As Stiles walked past Derek’s closet, he noticed his reflection in the mirror. He couldn’t look at himself without hearing her words in his head.

_“One-trick pony.”_

_“Does he cook your dishes for you too?"_

_“So even if you could beat me, trust me, you don’t have a prayer against Kate.”_

“She’s wrong,” Derek said, coming up behind Stiles and wrapping his arms tenderly around Stiles’ waist. “Everything she said was wrong.”

Stiles didn’t say anything, but gripped Derek’s forearms tightly.

“You’re a _great_ chef, Stiles,” Derek continued softly. “You are an _amazing_ chef, and I’m honored to work with you. Your carbonara is delicious and anything else you make is just as good.” 

“Derek, what if we don’t win?” Stiles asked quietly. “What if Allison is right? What if Kate beats us? What if I am a one-trick pony?”

“They’re _not_ going to win,” Derek cut in. “And you’re _not_ a one-trick pony.” You’re going to do great. We’re going to win five in a row, and Kate isn’t going to be able to stop us.” 

“I don’t--”

“Shhh,” Derek shushed. He guided Stiles towards the bed and laid them both down. “Let’s watch Ratatouille.”

“Why would we watch that?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s Laura’s favorite,” Derek said. “Plus, there’s about a million culinary mistakes in the movie, and you’re going to tell me every single one of them.”

“You’re an idiot,” Stiles said, shaking his head fondly and molding himself into Derek’s chest. He felt Derek’s arms tighten around him and he exhaled deeply. 

As the movie played, Stiles felt himself relax a lot more. The movie was actually pretty accurate in terms of culinary details, but it was still fun to think of a rat actually cooking. 

“I’ve actually never had ratatouille,” Derek said as the movie ended. “I know it’s mostly made out of vegetables, but I’ve always preferred salad.”

“I made some during midterms in my first year, before I really started to get into Italian food.” Stiles said. “But I snuck a couple slices of bacon in mine, so it got extra high marks.” 

“You and your bacon,” Derek said fondly.  He squeezed Stiles a little tighter and kissed his cheek. “Besides carbonara, what is your favorite dish to put bacon in?”

“This is going to sound really weird, but chocolate covered bacon is my weakness,” Stiles said. “Other than that, I really love bacon wrapped filet mignon. But bacon is good with everything.” 

“When I was in New York, there was a candy shop that sold chocolate covered bacon,” Derek said. “I never got it, because I thought that the two flavors didn’t belong together.”

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles asked. “Dude, they totally do. Especially if it’s semi-sweet dark chocolate and apple-wood smoked bacon; the sweet and savory contrast does wonders to your taste buds.” 

“And you say you’re not a top class chef,” Derek chuckled, kissing Stiles’ cheek again. “How many ordinary chefs use the word savory?”

“I wouldn’t know because, I don’t know any ordinary chefs” Stiles answered. “I do know a pretty great head chef though. He makes great strip steak. I don’t think he says savory very often.” 

“Oh really? Because I’d like to think of myself as a pretty great a head chef, and I do make a pretty mean strip steak. But I just started dating this really talented sous chef who makes a great creamy bacon carbonara. He also makes great Italian food, but he can make pretty much anything.”

“No way!” Stiles chuckled. “ _I_ make a great creamy bacon carbonara, and I just started dating this really great head chef! Maybe you and me are dating!”  

“We might be,” Derek said, laughing. “But we can only be dating if you’re a really talented sous chef.”

“You know, I think I am a really talented sous chef.” Stiles said. “So, I guess we must be dating!”

“I guess we are,” Derek said, squeezing Stiles one last time before nuzzling his neck and drifting into sleep.

Stiles had always been a little envious of Derek’s innate ability to fall asleep on the spot. But as he lay on the bed and ran his fingers through Derek’s hair, he was alone with his thoughts.

Derek was right.

He _was_ a talented sous chef, and he _could_ make other dishes besides carbonara. Maybe he did make a delectable PB &J, but that wasn’t all he could do. He could make stir fry, twice baked potatoes, and he could hand roll sushi.

He was going to go to the competition and he was going to help Full Moon win for a fifth time in a row, no matter who stood in his way.

“Thanks, Derek,” Stiles whispered, kissing Derek’s forehead before joining him in sleep.

*** 

The next morning, he wandered into the kitchen to find Derek taking muffins out of the oven. Stiles could smell the light aroma of blueberries, and judging from the various bowls and whisks sitting in the sink, he had a hunch that these muffins were homemade.  

“Morning,” Stiles mumbled, kissing Derek on the cheek.

“Hey,” Derek answered. “How did you sleep?”

Stiles hummed affirmatively and opened the fridge, looking for the orange juice.

“Feeling better?” Derek asked, handing Stiles a fresh muffin. “We should probably head out,” he said, putting the extra muffins in the fridge. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Stiles answered, taking a bite out of his muffin. “It’s not dry,” he said, smirking.

“Welcome back,” Derek said, smiling softly. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles’ lips.

“Thanks for last night,” Stiles said quietly. “I really needed that.”

“Of course,” Derek answered. “Come on.”

They walked hand in hand down to Full Moon. When they got to the employee lounge, they realized that they were the last ones there. Erica and Boyd were sitting on one of the couches. Jackson was leaning against the wall, and Isaac was leaning against Scott on their couch.

“Nice of you to join us,” Laura, said smirking from her seat.

“It’s seven fifty-eight, Laura,” Derek growled. “We’re early.” He and Stiles waved to everyone and sat down on their designated loveseat.

“Anyway,” Laura continued. “I’m sure you’re all aware of what happened last night. Most of you were involved in some way or another.”

“I had to take Danny to the airport,” Jackson said angrily. “There’s no way I would’ve let that happen if I was here. I would’ve taken her out myself.”

“No one’s blaming anyone, Jackson,” Laura cut in softly. “I wasn’t here either. The point is: what’s done is done. Everyone’s safe and sound.”

Scott muttered something and nuzzled Isaac’s cheek affectionately.

“Some of us came out a little worse for wear, yes,” Laura said, noticing Scott and Isaac. “Isaac, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Isaac answered. “We went to the ER last night. The doctor said I have a grade three concussion, so I’m gonna take a couple of days off. Plus a couple of my ribs are bruised; so I’m not supposed to be moving around that much. The doctor told me to get plenty of rest. It quickens the recovery and all that good stuff.” He blushed and sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair.

“I should’ve been there,” Jackson muttered. 

“I should’ve punched her when I had the chance,” Erica grumbled in agreement.

“She probably would’ve taken both of you out,” Boyd said. “Just be glad that she’s finally taken care of.”

“That’s right,” Laura answered. “At the end of the day, Allison is one less thing we have to worry about. We can focus on winning best restaurant for the unprecedented fifth year in a row.” She looked at Derek and Stiles expectantly.

Stiles smiled and Derek squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” Laura said. “I don’t want you by yourself during the lead up to the competition,” she said, looking at Isaac. “I know we probably have nothing to worry about, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. So one of us is going to hang out with you at home. We’ll trade off. I’d ask some of our other employees, but I honestly barely know their names.”

“Preachin’ to the choir,” Erica spoke up.

“Is everyone okay with that?” Laura asked. Six heads nodded in agreement.

“Perfect,” Laura said. “I think that’s all I really wanted to cover today. I think the only thing else that this meeting needs is a group hug.”

“You can’t be serious,” Derek muttered but he was already standing up.

“After what happened last night?” Laura asked. “I’m as serious as a heart attack. Come on, everyone, group hug. Isaac in the middle.”

Everyone lazily shuffled about before meeting in the middle of the room in a huge misshapen semi-circle. Stiles wasn’t sure whose arms were around him, but he couldn’t deny that he felt incredibly safe and content.

Laura was right; this was exactly what he’d needed.

 


	13. Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Sorry this is later than usual. We just got a fresh batch of new room mates in my house and school is starting again in like twenty-something days, and I'm just not ready. 
> 
> As always my beta is fantastic, and any feedback is welcome.

The week leading up to the Beacon Hills Restaurant Awards was one of the most hectic weeks of Stiles’ life. The Awards were like the Super Bowl for the city. There were newspaper articles discussing the chances of individual restaurants, what the secret ingredients would be, and any number of other factors that would sway the awards. 

By Tuesday, Stiles had given up on reading the Chronicle. By Wednesday, he had given up listen to local radio stations, and on Thursday he placed a ban on the television until after the awards were over. 

Things were running anything but smoothly at the restaurant, too. With the hype of the upcoming competition, it seemed like every day was a Carbonara Monday and a Strip Steak Special. It was like they were feeding the entire city every single day. 

“Derek, I can’t do this anymore,” Stiles said as he collapsed into their loveseat. “You’re going to have to carry on without me. I see the light. It’s so pretty, and we don’t have to make any food, it’s already made for us!”

Derek rolled his eyes fondly and sat next to Stiles on the loveseat. 

Stiles groaned dramatically and inched his head into Derek’s lap. “I don’t want to cook ever again,” he said, voice muffled by Derek’s thighs. 

“Let me know how that works out for you,” Derek said, rubbing Stiles’ head. “I know you make savory PB&J’s, but I think you’ll have to cook eventually.” 

“Does Easy Mac count as cooking?” Stiles asked, rolling over to look Derek in the eyes. “Because you’re using the microwave. Or you can use the stove, I guess. Come to think of it, I guess that makes top ramen—“

“Easy Mac is not cooking,” Derek cut in. “I can’t believe you would say something like that. I should fire you.” 

“But you won’t because we’re dating!” Stiles said, puckering his lips expectantly. 

“No, I won’t because I need a sous chef for this weekend,” Derek said, though he leaned down to kiss Stiles anyway. “And you’re the only one who can take the heat.” 

“You sure you don’t want to have another cook-off?” Stiles asked. “I’m pretty sure Aquaman would love to work alongside you-- the guy with the trout,” he added, noticing Derek’s quirked eyebrow.

“Don’t think that would work out very well,” Derek replied, stroking Stiles’ head. “Here at Full Moon, we only employ the best of the best. And he didn’t cut it.” 

“Or the ones you want to sleep with,” Stiles said. “And don’t try to deny it. This place is like a hotspot for dating within the workplace. We’re dating, Scott and Isaac are dating, so are Erica and Boyd, and I’m pretty sure we can count Jackson and Danny, since everyone already loves Danny.” 

Derek shrugged and continued rubbing Stiles’ head. “I’ve never really noticed.” 

“We’re like a little family,” Stiles said, grinning. “Like a pride of lions or something.” 

“Lions?” Derek asked. “Really?” 

“Yeah, probably not lions,” Stiles said thoughtfully. “Because only lionesses hunt, so I guess we could be wolves? Since you, me and Jackson do most of the hunting, or cooking in our case. You’d be the alpha though.” 

“I’m the alpha,” Derek repeated. 

“Okay, don’t say it like that,” Stiles said, laughing. “That was creepy.” 

“Mmmm,” Derek hummed. “I’m staying with Isaac tonight.”

“So, you’re just going to leave me here to fend off the dinner rush by myself?” Stiles asked. “Wow, that’s really noble of you, Derek. Some alpha you are.” 

“I think you’ll survive,” Derek said. “You stayed with him last night. What did you guys do?” 

“Not much,” Stiles answered. “We just hung out. I made him food, he took a nap; we watched a movie or two. Nothing noteworthy.”

“Oh, okay,” Derek said. “You sure you’re gonna be okay with the dinner shift tonight? It’s the last night before the competition.” 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Stiles said. “Jackson is working tonight too, so it’s not like I’ll be all by myself. And I’ll have the line chefs, but they don’t really count.” 

“I like Pedro,” Derek said thoughtfully. “He’s okay.” 

“I don’t know who that is,” Stiles said. “But Erica says if they’re not at the morning meetings, then they’re not important.” 

“Uh huh.” Derek said, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “I’m going to sleep now.” 

“Okay,” Stiles answered, “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

“Shocking,” Derek murmured as he closed his eyes. 

***

When Stiles woke up, Derek was already awake and was once again combing his fingers through Stiles’ hair. 

“Hey,” Stiles said sleepily. 

“Hi,” Derek replied. “Ready for dinner?” 

“Uh huh,” Stiles said, stretching his arms over his head. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Are you heading over to Isaac’s?” 

“As soon as you get off me,” Derek said, grinning. 

Stiles rolled his eyes as he rolled off Derek’s lap. He and Derek stood up and pursed his lips expectantly. Derek snorted and stood up to press a gentle kiss to Stiles’ lips. 

“Have fun tonight,” Derek said as started walking out of the lounge. “I’ll see you back at my place?” 

“I think so,” Stiles said. “I’ll probably close up and walk over. Now that Allison is behind bars, I don’t think I’ll have anything to worry about. Say hi to Isaac for me.” 

Derek rolled his eyes and headed out of the lounge. 

Stiles grinned and headed towards the kitchens. He was excited about working the dinner shift by himself. He had done it before, but there had never been anything important looming over the horizon, like the competition. Stiles kinda saw tonight as his last practice session before the big game. If you could compare cooking to sports. 

Stiles yawned one last time and walked into the kitchen. Jackson was already there, prepping for the nights dinner shift. He had a big bowl of broccoli and was rinsing it in the sink. Stiles clapped him on the shoulders as he made his way to his station. 

“Derek’s with Isaac?” Jackson asked. 

“Indeed,” Stiles answered. “It’s just you, me and the line chefs tonight.” 

“Perfect,” Jackson said, rolling his eyes. 

“Derek said good things about Pedro,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

Jackson snorted and went back to rinsing his broccoli. 

Stiles cracked his knuckles and pulled out all of the pots and saucepans he was going to need for the dinner shift. Derek had a favorite saucepan that he used when he was making his strip steaks, and Stiles had only used it once, when they had first started dating. It cooked like a dream, and Stiles was going to have a field day finally getting to us it. 

“Pedro!” Stiles called. 

“Yeah?” answered a voice from the far end of the kitchen. Pedro turned and walked over to Stiles. 

“It’s us against the world tonight, dude.” Stiles said. “I’ll handle the carbonara and the steaks, you do whatever Jackson needs you to do, capiche?” 

“Got it.” Pedro nodded and returned to his station. 

Jackson turned around and smirked at Stiles, who rolled his eyes in response and started filling his pots with water. 

The dinner shift passed without too much trouble. It was much busier than usual because everyone was clamoring to get a strip steak or a plate of carbonara before Full Moon went to compete in the competition the next day. It was a little weird for Stiles to watch Scott and Erica take plates of lasagna out that he hadn’t made, but he pushed the thoughts from his mind. 

He was here, making Full Moon’s two specialty dishes all by himself. He could let Jackson make lasagna every now and then. In fact, Stiles’ confidence was growing as he churned out strip steak after strip steak. He made carbonara on a regular basis, but it gave him a little adrenaline rush every time he finished cooking another steak. 

“Dude, people are raving about the carbonara and strip steaks,” Scott said as he came into the kitchen to drop off more orders. “Are you lacing them with like nicotine or something? Trying to get them addicted so they come back for more?” He grinned and playfully punched Stiles in the shoulder. 

“I’m just that good of a chef,” Stiles answered, grinning back. “I don’t know what else to say.” 

“Damn right you are,” Scott answered. “If you and Derek cook like this tomorrow, then there’s no way that anyone is going to come close to you.” 

“They might as well just hand us the trophy now,” Stiles said, laughing. He expertly flipped the strip steaks in the saucepan and turned to Scott and winked. “I’d like to see Chris do something like that tomorrow.” 

“There’s no way,” Scott said, leaning against the countertop. “Dude, you guys totally have this in the bag. I’m so excited for tomorrow.” 

“You and me both, good buddy,” Stiles said. “I wish we got, like, championship rings or something. How cool would that be?” 

“Super cool,” Scott answered, grinning. “I’d wear mine everyday. But I gotta get back out on the floor. Gotta go make sure people are enjoying their food-- but I think we all know that they are. I’ll see you in a bit, Stiles.” He held his fist up expectantly, and Stiles tapped it with his own. 

“Get out there, champ,” Stiles said, slapping Scott on the ass as he walked out of the kitchens. Stiles turned and saw Jackson smirking and shaking his head. 

“You two are weird,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Don’t you have a lasagna to make?” Stiles asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not tampering with my recipe. There’s a reason that people order my lasagna, because they know it’s delicious. Probably better than all of your desserts combined.” Stiles grinned and tilted his chin slightly upward, daring Jackson to take the bait. 

“Whatever you say, Stilinski,” Jackson said, handing Stiles a plate of lasagna. “Here, taste for yourself. I followed the recipe to a tee, just like you told me.” He stepped back and looked at Stiles expectantly. 

“Oh my—oh my gawd,” Stiles said around a mouthful of lasagna. “Jackson, has my lasagna always tasted this good? This is delicious. I should make lasagna like this more often.” 

“Get out of here,” Jackson muttered, playfully shoving Stiles away. “Just make sure that you’re able to cook like this tomorrow. We’ll probably get raises if you and Derek can manage to win five in a row, and I want to get Danny something nice.” 

“Aye, aye, captain,” Stiles said, giving Jackson a mock salute. “I will do my best.” 

Jackson rolled his eyes and headed towards the fridge to get ingredients for the upcoming dessert rush. Stiles smiled and headed back to his station. When he arrived, he noticed that he was a little low on carbonara, so he made his way to the cabinets and grabbed fresh ingredients to make another pot. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he began to cook the pot of pasta. This particular dish was his name to fame, and tomorrow there was a huge chance that it was going to help Full Moon win best restaurant for an unprecedented fifth consecutive year. Stiles started chuckling as he heated the water and chopped up the bacon. Even on the off chance that he lost, Stiles wouldn’t trade his time here at Full Moon for the world. He had made great friends, scored a super hot boyfriend, and had increased his confidence and repertoire as a chef. 

He had applied to Full Moon as a sous chef with a wicked creamy bacon carbonara and had been desperately hoping that Laura wouldn’t find out that he could only make three types of steaks. Now, only a short time later, he was acting as head chef of the most popular restaurant in Beacon Hills. 

“You haven’t won yet, Stilinski,” Jackson called from his station. “Wipe that smile off your face.” 

Stiles grinned and continued cooking. As he was frying the bacon and stirring the sauce, he thought about how easy it was to make his carbonara. He could probably make it in any kitchen, in any condition. He had made it so many times during his time in Full Moon that there was no way that he was going to lose with it. Stiles was lost in his own little world, until Erica’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.”

“Stiles. Stiles!” 

“Huh? Oh hi, Erica,” Stiles said. He looked at Erica’s ever-present perfect blond curls and then noticed the man standing next to her. “Who is this?” 

“This is—“

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said, extending his hand. “My name is Len Thomas, and I’m the Mayor of Beacon Hills. Nice to meet you.” 

“Oh, Mr. Mayor, nice to meet you,” Stiles said, shaking Len’s hand. “What can I do for you?” 

“Keep making that damn carbonara,” the mayor answered, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder and smiling brightly. “I’m not really supposed to publicly endorse my support for a specific restaurant, but your carbonara is the best dish I’ve ever had, hands down. Followed by the strip steak, of course.”

“I—thank you,” Stiles answered, trying to fight the blush he knew was creeping up his neck. Based on Erica’s quirked eyebrow, he probably wasn’t doing a very good job. “That means a lot, coming from you.” 

“Of course, son,” the mayor answered. “I had some tonight, and it was delicious as ever, so I told this wonderful young woman here that I had to meet the chef personally.” He gestured to Erica, who nodded and smiled softly. 

“Thank you so much,” Stiles said. “I’m glad you enjoy it.” 

“I’m not really supposed to have favorites because I’m the mayor, but between you and me, I really want Full Moon to win tomorrow.” 

“Me too,” Stiles answered. 

“Good luck tomorrow,” Len said. “I fully expect to see you guys win that trophy.” He nodded once more and left the kitchen, leaving Stiles and Erica alone. 

“Well, that was exciting,” Erica purred, throwing her arms around Stiles’ neck. “I wonder what it’s like to have everyone clamoring over you. I bet it feels pretty good, like a sick rush of power.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what it feels like,” Stiles answered, grinning and placing his hands on Erica’s waist. “I’ve seen you in action.” 

“You’re right,” Erica said, smirking. “I know exactly what it feels like. And now you do, too. You better win tomorrow,” she added, stepping back and looking Stiles in the eye. “I want Allison to be pulling her hair out in her prison cell.” 

“You don’t want us to win because we’re your friends?” Stiles joked. 

“That’s just a bonus,” Erica said, shrugging. But her eyes betrayed her playful tone. “I really want Allison to be banging her head against the cell bars in frustration.” 

“Whatever you say,” Stiles said. 

Erica grinned and gave Stiles a gentle peck on the cheek before returning to the floor. 

The rest of the dinner shift passed without too much fanfare. Scott and Erica continued to come in periodically, singing the customers praises of the carbonara and the strip steak. By the time he started packing up, Stiles was brimming with confidence. There was absolutely no way that they were going to lose tomorrow. 

Stiles drove with Scott to Derek’s apartment, since both of their boyfriends were there. As they were driving, Scott continued to talk about how cool it was going to be when Stiles and Derek won the next day. And Stiles couldn’t help agree with him. 

“Hey,” Stiles said as they entered Derek’s apartment. “How’s it going?” 

Derek was sitting at the table with a glass of water, and Isaac was passed out on the couch. Derek smiled when Stiles walked in, and walked over to give him a quick but gentle kiss. 

“How is he?” Scott asked. 

“He’s asleep,” Derek said, gesturing to Isaac’s slumbering figure on the couch. “He said his ribs hurt, so I gave him some medicine and it knocked him right out.” 

“I’ll get him,” Scott said, smiling fondly and sitting down next to Isaac. “You two go and start the bedroom tango. Just wait until we leave before you start moaning.” 

“We’re gonna have celebratory sex tomorrow,” Stiles said, grinning. “Right now, all I want to do is cuddle and sleep.” 

“That can be arranged,” Derek said, coming up behind Stiles and wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist. 

They said goodbye to Scott and made their way into Derek’s bedroom. 

“How was work today?” Derek asked, lying down next to Stiles on the bed. “Not too bad?”

“It was fine,” Stiles answered, snuggling up to Derek. “I took care of the carbonara and the strip steaks, and Jackson took care of most everything else.”

“You better not have ruined my reputation,” Derek growled playfully, nipping at Stiles’ collar bone. 

“Easy, big guy,” Stiles said, running his fingers through Derek’s hair. “If anything, I did you a favor. Scott and Erica gave me about twenty different complements today. And I met the mayor.” 

“Oh really?” Derek asked. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “He came in and was saying that he really wanted us to win and that my carbonara and the strip steaks were always so good.”

“How was Pedro?” Derek asked. 

“He was surprisingly good, actually.” Stiles answered. “If all the other line chefs are like him, I should probably get to know them, huh?”

“Mmmm,” Derek murmured against Stiles’ chest. “Probably. Can I ask you something?” 

“Shoot.” 

“Why did you decide to have carbonara as your specialty dish?” Derek asked. 

“A little late to be having this conversation, don’t you think?” Stiles asked, chuckling. “Isn’t that like a first date question?” 

“Our first date was interrupted by a certain sous chef,” Derek pointed out. “And our second date ended in a hotel bedroom. Sorry if I really haven’t had time to wine and dine you.” 

“Clearly, you did just fine,” Stiles said, kissing Derek on the forehead. “But anyways, when I was, like, twelve, my parents used to take me to San Francisco, once a month to the local food expo. You know, the one where all the culinary students have free tastings of their food? It’s like Costco free samples, but way better tasting.” 

“Oh, we had one of those in New York,” Derek said. “We had to present food at least ten times if we wanted to graduate. It used to be a requirement for most culinary schools.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Stiles answered. He rolled onto his side and allowed Derek to pull him close. He sighed contently as Derek nibbled and kissed his neck. “But at the food expo in the city, it was like a friendly competition, so the chefs didn’t stand next to their dishes. They actually weren’t even at the expo. What they did was they had pen names and that was how people knew who they were. But anyway, since they had to present at least ten different dishes, everyone started to pick favorites.” 

“And your favorite chef made carbonara?” Derek asked. 

“Oh my God,” Stiles said. “She made everything. Her pen name was the “The Huntress” and every week, she would have a different Italian dish. One week she made a bacon carbonara and it was the best thing I had ever tasted in my life. Basically, I took an oath that I would one day be able to make a carbonara as good as “The Huntress”.” 

“I think you’ve probably succeeded,” Derek answered, tightening his grip on Stiles. “Was her carbonara ever featured in the newspaper?” 

“No, but she always won the expos,” Stiles said, wrinkling his nose in thought. “Come to think of it, I think she won every expo she entered in. But then she eventually graduated and went off to work in a real restaurant.” 

“Interesting,” Derek said. “When we win tomorrow, you can say a couple of words about her in your speech.” 

“We get to make speeches?” Stiles asked excitedly. 

“No,” Derek said, grinning. “But if you want to, you can.” 

“I hate you,” Stiles said, craning his neck to kiss Derek on the mouth.

“You don’t,” Derek replied. “Get some sleep. We’ve got a competition to win.” 

***

The next day, Stiles and Derek woke up bright and early so they could be at the Beacon Hills Convention Center on time. The competition was an all day event, so Derek made some hearty omelets for breakfast. 

“Dude, what is in these?” Stiles asked around a mouthful of egg. “It’s so good.” 

“The usual,” Derek answered. “Bacon, three types of cheese, peppers, tomatoes and sausage.” 

“So good,” Stiles said. “Marry me.” 

Derek snorted and continued eating his omelet. 

When they arrived at the convention center, Stiles was shocked to find out just how many restaurants were competing to be crowned “Beacon Hill’s Best Restaurant.” The convention center was adorned with at least twenty-five stations, each complete with a stove and a counter. There were five huge refrigerators in the center of the hall, and there were four covered tables, which Stiles could only assume to be the secret ingredients for each of the rounds. 

“Where’s our station?” Stiles asked, looking around the room. “I don’t see it.” 

“Right there,” Derek all but growled. “And look who we’re next to.” He pointed his finger, and Stiles looked in the direction.

The Full Moon Station was right next to the Silver Platter Station.

“Dude, no worries,” Stiles said as he grabbed Derek’s hand and led them to their station. “I actually think it’s a great idea to put the two of us so close together. That way I can see the look on Kate’s face up close and personal when we beat her.” 

“You’re just full of confidence, aren’t you?” Derek said. He leaned in for a kiss, which Stiles returned.

“Dude, the mayor came and told me that he wanted me to win,” Stiles said. “I got a ridiculous amount of compliments last night, and you probably did the night before. We are the best chefs at this place. There’s no way we’re going to lose.” 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Full Moon Team.” 

Stiles didn’t recognize the voice coming from behind him. He turned around and saw Chris Argent standing with a woman that could only be his sister, Kate 

“Derek, it’s been a while,” Kate continued. “And this must be Stiles. I’ve heard so much about you. My name is Kate,” she said, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Back off, Kate,” Derek growled. “Don’t harass him.” He stepped protectively in front of Stiles and grabbed his hand. 

“Oh my God” Kate said, feigning surprise. “You two are dating? That is so cute. No wonder I never saw you with a girl, Derek. You like to cross swords.” 

Derek clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on Stiles’ hand. 

“Kate,” Chris said warningly. “Remember the conditions. You’re supposed to stay away from the Full Moon team.”

“It’s not my fault that our stations are right next to each other,” Kate said, turning to Chris. “And besides, I’ve heard so much about Stiles from Allison, I want to know if it’s true.” 

“Kate—“ Chris tried, but Kate talked right over him. 

“So Stiles,” Kate started. “Allison told me that you like to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, so I have to ask; How did you ever manage to score a job a Full Moon?” 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant at all,” Stiles answered. “But I entered a cook-off, I won and now I’m a sous chef.”

“Fascinating,” Kate said, nodding. “And you’re dating Derek? Is that a bonus?” 

“It’s a perk,” Stiles answered curtly. Kate reminded him of Allison; he had absolutely no idea what her angle was. He stepped in front of Derek, so he didn’t appear weak. If Kate was anything like Allison, then she would be looking for Stiles’ weakness so that she could exploit it. 

“Take it from someone who knows,” Kate said, leaning in close. “Don’t date a Hale. They’ll screw you over and they won’t even think twice.” 

“Derek would never,” Stiles said. “He knows I’m the only one who would put up with his grumpy ass.” Stiles caught the small smile that fleeted across Derek’s lips and counted it as a mini-victory. 

Kate threw back her head and laughed. “You’re a funny guy, Stiles,” she said. “It’s going to be a shame that I’m going to have to utterly crush your hopes and dreams in this competition. After all, I _am_ the reason Full Moon is famous, aren’t I, Derek? You know the story, don’t you, Stiles?” 

“Oh, I know all about it,” Stiles said, shrugging. “And while I thank you for the popularity boost that you so generously gave us, I think Derek and I have done a pretty good job keeping the restaurant going. Between his strip steak and my carbonara, we have a full house every night.” 

“Oh that’s right,” Kate said, nodding. “Allison told me. You’re the little boy with the creamy bacon carbonara. Allison told me about that.” 

“It’s never been beaten in a competition before, either,” Stiles said, puffing out his chest ever so slightly. “Just saying.” 

“Oh really?” Kate asked, leaning in close. “Mine either,” she said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Stiles said, frowning. “You make carbonara too?” 

“Oh, honey,” Kate said, shaking her head. “You’re not the only Italian specialist in Beacon Hills. When I was in culinary school I took my Italian dishes to the local food expo and cleaned house every time. I don’t think I ever lost.” 

“Wait,” Stiles said slowly. “What culinary school did you go to?” 

“Cal Arts in San Francisco. They used to make us to a local food expo and present all of our foods under these cute little pen names. It was so much fun.” 

Stiles was speechless. 

“Oh my God,” he thought. “Kate’s the Huntress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: THE FINAL BATTLE!!!


	14. Competition (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter turned out way longer than I expected, so I split it into two parts. Because otherwise you'd be reading a huge behemoth of a chapter. 
> 
> As always, a huge thanks to my beta, Bookgodess15.

“I— I—excuse me,” Stiles muttered as he turned away. He had to get away, he had to be anywhere but where Kate was. There was no way that _Kate Argent_ was Stiles’ inspiration to cook. It was impossible. There was no way. 

Stiles stumbled into a bathroom and shoved his way into the first open stall. The collapsed on the toilet and buried his face in his hands. 

It wasn’t fair. He and Derek were supposed to win five in a row. It was going to be great. They were supposed to be able to beat Kate and Chris fairly routinely .They were gonna get raises, Jackson was going to buy Danny something nice. Scott would probably take Isaac on another nice trip, and Erica would probably buy more clothes. Now none of that could happen because Kate was the Huntress and she was better than Stiles in every way imaginable. 

“Stiles?” A familiar voice called from the bathroom entrance. “Stiles, are you in here?” 

“Go away,” Stiles muttered. He shut his eyes because he really didn’t want to deal with anything right now. Maybe he could slip into the toilet and get flushed away so he would never have to cook again, because once Kate beat him in the competition, that’s what was bound to happen. “Please go away.” 

The stall door opened and Stiles felt a weight settle on his thighs. He opened his eyes and saw Derek crouched down in front of him, arms settled on Stiles’ thighs. Derek’s hazel green eyes were boring into his, and Stiles could see the concern in them. 

“Are you okay?” Derek asked. 

“Kate’s the Huntress,” Stiles whispered. “Kate _fucking_ Argent is the Huntress.” 

“Yeah, I figured that out based on the way you left,” Derek said, nodding. “So what?” 

“So what?” Stiles asked. “So what? Derek, Kate Argent is the reason that I’m here right now. Her food is the reason that I went to culinary school. Her carbonara _literally_ inspired mine. It’s pretty much hopeless for me to go out there right now. It would be like the Karate Kid going up against Mr. Miyagi. Like Bumblebee going against Optimus Prime. Like Bucky going against Captain America. I have no shot.” 

“Finished?” Derek asked, looking slightly annoyed. 

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked.

“Are you finished having your pity party?” Derek asked. “Because it’s getting a little old.” 

“I’m not having a pity party,” Stiles mumbled. 

“Yeah, you are,” Derek answered, a little more gruffly than Stiles would’ve liked. 

“Okay, well what am I supposed to do?” Stiles asked. “Derek, there’s no way I can beat her.”

“Good thing this is a team competition,” Derek pointed out. “It’s you and me, versus Chris and Kate. So there’s that. I’ve already beaten both of them, and you’re just as good of a chef as I am, so we’re not going to have a problem.” 

“Yeah, right,” Stiles muttered. He looked away and focused on the surprisingly clean bathroom walls. “Derek, I remember at the food expos, she literally won by a landslide every single time. Everyone wanted to taste her food, and if carbonara is her specialty, then I’m out of luck. You heard her, it’s never been beaten.” 

“And I heard you too,” Derek answered. “Yours hasn’t been beaten, either.” 

“It’s not the same,” Stiles mumbled. “I’m still just a sous chef. Kate’s the reason that Full Moon is famous in the first place, and now that she’s back, she’s going to make Silver Platter famous, too.” Stiles sighed and 

“Look at me,” Derek said. “Stiles, look at me.” 

When Stiles didn’t look, Derek reached up and squeezed his biceps ever so slightly. 

“Stiles, you are a great chef,” Derek said gently. “People come to Full Moon for _your_ carbonara, not Kate’s. _Your_ carbonara was featured in the chronicle, not Kate’s. It doesn’t matter what she’s done. Right now, all that matters is how bad we’re going to beat her.” 

“You’re horrible at giving motivational speeches,” Stiles said, smiling softly. 

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes. “I don’t give them very often, I must be out of practice.” He took Stiles’ hands in his own. “But I shouldn’t have to give them very often, because my sous chef boyfriend should know by now that he’s a great chef.” 

“We’re going to win,” Stiles muttered, “And I’m a great chef.” 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. “I couldn’t hear you over the self doubt.” 

“I hate you,” Stiles said, grinning slightly. 

“I don’t care,” Derek said. “Say it again, and this time let’s hear a little more conviction.”

“We’re going to win,” Stiles said. “And I’m a great chef.” 

“That’s my boy,” Derek said, standing up and kissing Stiles on the forehead. “Now come on,” he said, extending his hand. “We’ve got a competition to win.” 

Stiles accepted Derek’s hand, stood up and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck. “You’re the best,” he said softly. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime,” Derek answered, “Do you wanna go prep now? You’re gonna have to face Kate sooner or later.” 

“I’m feeling strangely confident,” Stiles said, grinning. “Might as well go prep now, and get it over with.” 

Derek grinned back and they headed back to their station, where they found Kate and Chris already in the middle of their preparations. Stiles took a deep breath and squared his shoulders in preparation for the goading. At this point, he really didn’t want to deal with her right now. The best remedy for Kate’s taunting was just to beat her in the competition. Stiles knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it would be a whole lot easier if he ignored her as much as he could. Kate was the Huntress, and she was Stiles’ inspiration to cook, but that didn’t mean that Stiles couldn’t pull off an upset. He was going to do his best, and at the end of the day that was all he could do. When Kate saw that Stiles was returning, a predatory smirk appeared on her face. 

“Oh, Stiles! How are you feeling? I didn’t really understand why you rushed out earlier. You can’t be nervous, can you?” 

Stiles sighed. “I’m going to prep,” he told Kate pointedly. “You can talk all you want, but at the end of the day, one of us is probably going to win. If you want it to be Silver Platter, I would advise spending more time prepping, and more time trying to taunt me, because right now I am not in the mood.” 

Kate opened her mouth to say something, but Stiles turned his back and began sharpening his kitchen knives. 

“Proud of you,” Derek whispered, nudging Stiles gently. 

“Let’s just win,” Stiles said back. “Then we can gloat all we want later.” 

***

“Good morning chefs, and welcome to the preliminary rounds of the Annual Beacon Hills Restaurant Awards. I’m Coach Finstock, and I’ll be your host for the first three rounds, as well as the emcee for the live final round. As you all know, due to the increased popularity of the awards, and with so many restaurants vying to take down Full Moon Steakhouse, we’ve changed the format a little bit.” 

Derek subtly reached down and squeezed Stiles’ hand. 

“Anyway, since there are so many of you, this years awards will consist of four rounds,” Finstock continued. “Each round, you will have forty-five minutes to create a dish that utilizes the secret ingredient, which has been randomly chosen ahead of time. The first three rounds will happen, here, this morning, and the final round will happen live later this evening, in the Exhibition Floor. The judges will score your dishes in each round, and at the end of a round, the top half will advance. Are there any questions?”

“How will we be judged?” Kate asked.

“You will be judged on taste, presentation, and usage of the secret ingredient. Each judge can award a team of chefs a maximum of twenty points: ten points for taste, five points for presentation and five points for the usage of the secret ingredient.” Finstock answered. “The top half of the teams will move on to the next round. Any other questions?” 

None one said anything, so Finstock clasped his hands together and continued. “Wonderful,” he said. “So we’re going to go ahead and get started. Everyone, please return to your stations.” 

Stiles, Kate, Derek, Chris and the rest of the chefs made their way back to their stations, where a large covered platter was waiting for them. 

“Good luck,” Kate whispered as she passed Stiles on her way to her station. “You’re gonna need it.” 

“I’ll make sure they shine the trophy up real nice, so when they give it to me, you’ll be able to see your reflection from second place on the podium,” Stiles hissed back. “You know, if you get that far.” 

“Why you--,” 

“For the first round, you will have forty-five minutes to create an entrée, using the secret ingredient, which will be revealed momentarily.” Finstock announced. He waited until the last groups of chefs made their way over to their stations. “And the secret ingredient for the first round is: salmon filets. Your forty-five minutes starts now.” 

“What do you want to do?” Stiles asked as he lifted the platter cover to reveal two large filets of raw salmon meat. “These are beautiful,” he said, picking one up and examining it. “Wow.” 

“We could do a brown sugar glaze,” Derek said. “Something that really complements the rich taste of the salmon and features it as the centerpiece of the entrée.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Stiles agreed. “But let’s actually make the brown sugar ourselves. They have granulated sugar and molasses in the pantry, right? We can boil that down, and that’s all you need for brown sugar.” 

“Yeah,” Derek answered. “What do you want to do for sides?” 

“Um, I always think of asparagus when I think of salmon,” Stiles answered. “The earthy taste of the asparagus would blend nicely with the sugar glaze.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Derek said. “Wild rice pilaf, too?”

“If you can make it in forty minutes,” Stiles said, running to the pantry to grab sugar and molasses. I usually cook mine for an hour.” 

“We’ll make it work,” Derek called as he power-walked over to the fridge to grab the asparagus and butter. “Grab some long grain wild rice while you’re over there.” 

Stiles quickly elbowed his way around some other chefs and got the ingredients he needed. On his way back to his station, another chef actually tried to grab the rice out of his hands. Clearly, there was some sort of target on his back, because everyone was giving him all kinds of dirty looks. 

“I got it,” Stiles said, returning to the safety of his station. Derek was already tossing the asparagus in a mixture of sea salt and olive oil. 

“Perfect,” Derek said, putting the asparagus aside. “I’m gonna let these sit. Let’s get the rice on heat, because that’s going to take the longest to cook.” 

“Wow, Chris, salmon salad sounds like a perfect idea,” Kate said, loud enough for Derek and Stiles to hear. “A lot better than basic sugar glazed salmon.” 

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but Derek placed a hand on his wrist. “Not now,” he said lowly. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later, when the cooking is done. Right now, we need to focus.” 

Stiles nodded. Derek was right, as soon as they finished cooking their superior salmon, Stiles would rub it in Kate’s face. 

“Do you want to handle the salmon, and I’ll work on everything else?” Derek asked. 

“Sounds good,” Stiles answered. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

Derek nodded and resumed seasoning his rice. 

Forty-five minutes flew by. Stiles barely remembered Finstock giving them twenty and ten minute intervals, but the next thing he knew, they were under the minute mark.

“Thirty seconds left, chefs,” Finstock called. 

Thankfully, even though Stiles had completely lost track of time, he and Derek were well on schedule. Stiles didn’t even realize it, but they were already putting the finishing touches on their plates. 

The salmon looked beautiful, and it was cooked to perfection. Stiles didn’t need to taste it--, he just knew. It was a brilliant orange color and he could smell the sweet aroma of brown sugar wafting off of the fish. The asparagus was grilled perfectly as well. Derek had taken extra care to make sure that the grill lines criss-crossed perfectly. And even the rice pilaf had turned out pretty good. Stiles would’ve liked to have cooked it a little while longer, but it tasted pretty good either way. 

He looked over at Kate’s station and almost laughed out loud. Kate and Chris served what looked like a salmon salad, if you could even call it that. There were pieces of bread and cheese on the side, so maybe it was supposed to be a sandwich or something. Stiles took one look at it and instantly knew that there was way too much mayo in it, which was a rookie mistake. 

Stiles smirked to himself; the judges were going to hate it. 

“Chefs, please bring your dishes to the judges,” Finstock said. “Your judges for this evening are: Alan Deaton, Jennifer Blake and Marin Morrell.” 

Since Full Moon and Silver Platter were among the favorites to win the competition, they presented their dishes last, to give the dark horses a chance to impress the judges before they were blown away by the quality of chefs like Stiles, Derek, Chris and Kate. It was also fun to listen to the critiques. They were almost as mean as Derek had been on Stiles’ first day. 

“I like that you made a teriyaki salmon, that was a really smart choice. The problem I have is that there’s just way too much teriyaki sauce. I feel like you just shipped me to Osaka with this dish.” 

“I really admire your choice to make salmon cakes, but they’re just undercooked. My salmon is raw in the middle. I’m just not going to eat that anymore.” 

Some restaurants definitely weren’t winning Best Restaurant this year. 

“Next up is Silver Platter Bar and Brewery,” Finstock announced. 

“Hi,” Kate said as Chris served the judges their dish. “What you have in front of you is an open-faced salmon salad sandwich made with dijonnaise, sweet relish, celery, carrots and zante currants. It’s paired with a couple slices of sourdough bread and some Colby jack cheese for that sharp bite. Enjoy.” 

“So, this isn’t very good,” Deaton said. “I think you have way too much dijonnaise and it overpowers the natural flavor of the salmon. I do like the idea to put currants in the salad to add a little bit of sweetness to it, and I like the crunch of the carrots and celery.” 

“My problem with this dish is you were given two beautiful filets of salmon and you chose to cut them up and hide them in a globby mixture of mayonnaise and carrots,” Ms. Blake added. “Honestly, it’s telling me that you’re not confident in your cooking skills. I think the salmon salad tastes alright, it’s just not what I would do when given two filets of salmon.”

“I’d have to agree with the other two,” Ms. Morrell said. “When I think of salmon as an entrée, I just don’t think of a salmon salad sandwich. I think of thick, tasty filets of salmon, and unfortunately not this dish just didn’t really give us what we were expecting; it just wasn’t executed very well. You’re not getting judged on originality, if you make it to the next round, try to give us something that people would actually eat in a restaurant.” 

“Of course,” Kate said, nodding. “Thank you for your time.” 

“Next up, Full Moon Steakhouse,” Finstock announced. 

As Kate and Chris returned to the line up of chefs with less than enthusiastic expressions on their faces, Stiles couldn’t pass up a golden attempt to gloat. 

“Did they like it?” he whispered to Kate as they passed each other. “I couldn’t really tell.” 

“Fuck off,” Kate hissed. 

“Let us show you how it’s done.” 

“Chefs,” Finstock said. “Please present your dish.” 

“Hello,” Stiles said as Derek handed the judges their salmon. “We’ve prepared a homemade brown sugar glazed salmon filet with grilled asparagus and a wild rice pilaf.” 

“I’m so glad that you guys presented last, and let me tell you why,” Deaton said. “If you had given this to me at the start of this round, I guarantee that I would’ve scored everyone at least a point lower for not measuring up to this dish. This is absolutely delicious; everything is cooked perfectly. Well done.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said, smiling. 

“This is delicious,” Ms. Morrell said, smiling. “You said that it was a homemade brown sugar glaze?”

“That’s right,” Stiles answered, “It’s just granulated sugar with some molasses and a little bit of lemon juice.” 

“It’s perfect,” Ms. Morrell said. “It’s exactly what I think of when I think of salmon entrées in a restaurant. The salmon filet is cooked perfectly, and the sides complement the sweet glaze of the salmon very well. I love the slight salty taste of the asparagus. Is this on the menu?” 

“Not this variation of salmon, no,” Derek answered. 

“Well it needs to be,” Ms. Morrell replied. “It’s delicious.” 

“Thank you,” Stiles said, nodding. 

“I’m not even going to comment on the salmon because everyone knows it’s delicious,” Ms. Blake said. “I’m honestly more impressed with the side dishes. The grill lines on these asparagus are perfect, and the fact that they look good and taste better is a bonus. Plus, I’m still in awe of how you were able to make a rice pilaf taste this good in less than an hour. That’s unheard of to me.”

“Thank you, chefs,” Finstock said, nodding. “Now that round one is over, the judges will tally up their scores and half of you will be moving on to the next round. Please return to your stations.” 

“Great job,” Derek said, hugging Stiles tightly when they returned to their station. “Way to get us off to a great start.” 

Stiles grinned and pressed his head into Derek’s shoulder. It was a pleasant feeling to get recognized as a great chef by someone outside of Full Moon. Stiles knew he was a good chef, but he sometimes struggled with his confidence, and round one really helped settle him down. It also didn’t hurt that the judges had less than positive things to say about Kate’s salmon, but Stiles wasn’t focusing on her. Not too much at least. 

“Thanks,” he said, kissing Derek lightly. “Think we’ll move on?” 

“I’m sure we will,” Derek said, eyes twinkling. “They liked everything.” 

“Well, well, well,” Kate said, strolling over to the Full Moon Station. “Looks like beginners luck is a thing after all.” 

“Funny joke, Kate,” Stiles said, cutting Derek and Chris off before they could say anything. He had just wiped the floor with Kate and he was going to gloat about it, damn it. “Can I try some of your salmon salad? I’d offer you some of our salmon in return, but the judges ate it all, they liked it so much.” 

“It’s still early,” Kate sneered, eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t get cocky.” 

“Whatever you say,” Stiles grinned, resting his head against Derek’s shoulder. “Hope you made it out of the first round.” 

At that moment, Finstock came to announce the restaurants that were moving on to the second round. Unsurprisingly, Full Moon advanced. Silver Platter advanced as well, and Stiles was sure that he saw Kate and Chris breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Chefs, congratulations on making it to the second round,” Finstock said, once the eliminated chefs had packed up and left. “In this round, you will have forty-five minutes to prepare an entrée featuring the secret ingredient of apples. Your time begins now.” 

“Apple cider chicken,” Stiles said immediately, turning to Derek. “Super delicious, super easy, wow factor for the menu. It’s perfect for what the judges seem to be looking for.” 

“Lead the way,” Derek said, grinning. “What do you want me to do for sides?” 

“I want to do something with more brown sugar, because it will complement the taste of the apple cider, but do you think that’s too much? We have leftover glaze anyway.” Stiles asked as he and Derek jogged towards the pantry and fridge. There were less chefs jostling for ingredients, so it wasn’t as hectic to get what they needed. 

“I think we’ll be fine,” Derek answered. “As long as it works with the dish then we’ll be okay. They’re judging on taste, not whether or not we used a glaze twice.”

“Okay, perfect,” Stiles said. “Do you want to do, like, a light brown sugar glaze on some cut carrots and basic red potatoes with a little bit of butter, garlic and thyme?” 

“Sounds great,” Derek said, grabbing what he needed and returning to their station, leaving Stiles alone to peruse the fridge for chicken.

“What are you going to make this time, Stiles?” Kate purred from behind him. 

“Geez, Kate, if you wanted me to make you food, all you had to do was ask. Maybe if you ask the judges, they’ll save you some. I don’t know though because I’ll probably knock this one out of the park, too.” 

Kate snorted and grabbed some pork chops before returning to her station. 

“You grabbed chicken thighs?” Derek asked, doubtfully “Why not chicken breasts?”

“I like the flavor of chicken thighs more,” Stiles replied. “The dark meat is going to absorb the cider more and since they’re smaller than breasts, they’re going to cook faster. “ 

“Okay,” Derek said, “I trust you.” 

Stiles lightly punched Derek on the shoulder and set about cooking. He was overflowing with confidence. The judges had loved their previous dish, and Stiles was even more comfortable cooking apple cider chicken than he was salmon. This was going to be a walk in the park. 

Stiles quickly and deftly cut up some onions, granny smith and pink lady apples and put them in a skillet along with two bottles of apple cider and about a cup of flour. He let those simmer while he began trimming the fat off the chicken thighs. He rubbed them with a little bit of olive oil and seasoned them up with a little salt and pepper before tossing them in the skillet with the apples and apple cider. 

Before long, they were finished with a glistening golden brown finish. They smelled heavenly, and Stiles was a little jealous that the judges were going to get to eat them and not him. He would have to make this for Derek in the near future. 

“That smells so good,” Derek said, wafting the smells of Stiles’ chicken into his nose. “The judges are absolutely going to love that.” 

“They’d better,” Stiles said, smirking. “And we know that Ms. Blake has a thing for side dishes. These potatoes look beautiful.” He popped on in his mouth. “Oh, and they taste even better. The carrots look great, too. Come on, let’s get plating.” 

“Two minutes, chefs!” Finstock announced. 

In the two minutes, Derek and Stiles plated the chicken, carrots and potatoes in a semi-elaborate design. Derek spooned his potatoes and carrots on a plate, and Stiles laid two chicken thighs on top of them. He spooned a little bit of the leftover sauce on top of the dish for a last bit of flavor. Stiles was pretty sure that they weren’t going to be awarded style points, but on the off chance that they were, he was coming prepared. 

As he and Derek lined up to present their second course, Stiles stole a glance over at Kate’s and Chris’ dish. They had pork chops on each of their plates, and Stiles couldn’t deny that they looked good. Chris and Kate had definitely stepped up their game. Stiles was pretty sure that they were going to get much better reviews this round. 

In the second round, the lowest scoring restaurants from the first round presented their dishes first. Stiles reasoned that it was so they could make a better first impression with the judges. And it looked like the judges were liking that the changes that were being made. 

“This is such an improvement from your teriyaki salmon in the last round. I was a little skeptical when you presented a summer salad with apples and strawberries as an entrée instead of an appetizer, but it works surprisingly well. I like the crunch of the walnuts and the fact that you used apples in the salad dressing. Well done.” 

Since Silver Platter had scored less than satisfactory in the first round, Kate and Chris presented a lot sooner than they had in the previous round. 

“Silver Platter,” Finstock said. “Please tell the judges what you have prepared.” 

“Okay so what you have in front of you is a pork chop on a bed of pan-fried apples and topped with pecans and walnuts,” Kate said. “You also have a semi-sweet cole slaw on the side.” 

“So this is much better than what you gave us in the first round,” Ms. Morrell said. “I actually am not a fan of pork chops, but this actually came together quite nicely. I’m not sure about both the walnuts and pecans because they bring two separate flavors, I think having one or the other would’ve been a lot better. But the pork chop is very tender and the apples are just a tad on the mushy side. Other than that, great work on this dish.” 

“I have to disagree with Ms. Morrell a little bit,” Deaton said. “I think that the apples are just soft enough, and both the walnuts and the pecans give it a nice crunch. I will say that my pork chop was a little overcooked but I still have all of the flavor of the apples and it’s delicious, and I’m not a huge fan of the cole slaw. I think something a little less sweet, like broccoli or green beans would’ve been a better option.” 

“This is probably my favorite dish that I’ve eaten this round,” Ms. Blake said. “I think everything works well, except for the cole slaw. I do think green beans would’ve been a better choice to contrast with the apples. But it’s very good.” 

“Thank you,” Kate said, smiling and nodding. 

“Thank you chefs,” Finstock said as Kate and Chris returned to the line up of chefs.  
There were a couple more restaurants in between Full Moon, so Stiles and Derek had to sit through more critiques. Finally it was their turn to present. 

“We’ve prepared for you Apple Cider Chicken with brown sugar carrots and baked red potatoes,” Stiles said. “Enjoy.” 

“This is so good,” Ms. Blake said. “I’m not sure if I like it as much as I liked as much as I liked your salmon, but that’s probably not really a fair comparison, because your salmon was absolutely delicious. But, again, this is restaurant quality food and if it’s not on your menu, then it needs to be.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said. 

“I like this a lot,” Ms. Morrell said. “I really like how the chicken has just the right hit of apple cider, and the apples themselves work really well with the carrots and the potatoes. I’d have to agree with Ms. Blake in that I like your salmon a little bit better, but this is definitely a close second. The chicken is juicy and tender and is cooked perfectly, well done.” 

“I think I would’ve preferred that you made it with chicken breasts instead of chicken thighs,” Deaton said. “The dark meat in the thighs is more suited towards more of a savory flavor, and I think the sweetness of the apples and the apple cider would’ve worked a lot better with the milder flavor of chicken breasts. However, that is just my opinion, and I don’t want to take anything away from this dish, because it turned out spectacularly.” 

“Thank you,” Stiles said, nodding.

“Thank you chefs,” Finstock said. “The judges will tally their scores and will announce those moving on momentarily. Please return to your stations.” 

“Not as good as I had hoped,” Stiles said as they walked back to their station. “But they liked it, so that’s what counts.” 

Derek hummed in agreement and rested his head on Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Easy, big guy,” Stiles said, grinning and patting Derek on the back. “Only two more rounds to go and we’ll be home free with a nice new trophy.” 

Finstock stepped up and announced the restaurants that were moving on to the final preliminary round. Full Moon and Silver Platter were among them, along with the restaurant that made the teriyaki salmon and the apple salad. 

“Chefs, congratulations on making it to the final round of the morning,” Finstock said. “There are six restaurants left, but only three of you will make it to the live finale later on this evening. You will have forty-five minutes to create your dish, using the secret ingredient of ground beef. Good luck.” 

“Hamburgers,” Derek said quickly. “That’s all it can be.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Stiles said. “You wanna do BBQ bacon cheeseburgers with hand cut French fries and a side Caesar salad?” 

“Marry me,” Derek said, kissing Stiles on the cheek. “That sounds perfect.” 

Derek walked over to the pantry to grab the ingredients they would need. He came back eggs, spices, croutons and potatoes.

“I’ll do the fries and the salad,” he said, handing Stiles the eggs, spices and croutons. “If I were you I would cook the hamburger either medium-well or well.” He winked and Stiles completely understood the joke. 

“If we weren’t cooking, I would punch you right now,” he said, grinning. Derek snorted good-naturedly and set about cutting his potatoes. 

Homemade hamburgers were one of the easiest things on the planet to make, and Stiles was pretty confident he could make them in his sleep. He placed the ground beef into a bowl, cracked three eggs into the beef and added the croutons that he ground up into a fine powder. It would’ve been easier if Derek had grabbed regular breadcrumbs, but Stiles made it work.

After mixing everything together, Stiles grabbed the season salt, garlic powder, paprika and a little bit of Worcestershire sauce and mixed them into the beef. There were still about thirty minutes until they had to plate, and Stiles didn’t want to serve cold cheeseburgers, so he surveyed the competition. 

The hall was mostly empty now that there were only six restaurants left. Apart from Silver Platter, Stiles had no idea who any of them were. But they weren’t going to make it to the final round, that’s for sure. 

Speaking of Silver Platter, Kate and Chris looked like they were making burritos. Stiles could smell the Mexican seasoning from his station, and he had to admit, it smelled pretty good. Kate and Chris had definitely stepped their game up, and for that Stiles was glad. Winning five in a row wouldn’t be as sweet if he wouldn’t be able to beat Kate in the final round. 

“Chefs, twenty minutes,” Finstock announced. 

“I’m about to put the fries in the deep fryer,” Derek said. “Do you wanna get those burgers on the heat?” 

“Right,” Stiles said, heating up a skillet. Thanks to the gas burner, the skillet heated up quickly and before long the delicious aromas of hamburgers were wafting around the room. The hamburgers were cooking great and Stiles could smell the fries cooking as well. Stiles turned the hamburgers down just a little bit so they would be warm by the time they served them to the judges. As they sat on the stovetop, he placed a slice of Colby jack cheese on the burgers and watched as it bubbled and melted over the patty. 

They were going to knock this round out of the park. 

“Five minutes chefs,” Finstock announced.

Stiles quickly grabbed hamburger buns from the pantry and tossed them in the oven to get a light toast. He pulled them out after about two minutes and spread mayonnaise and BBQ sauce on the buns. 

“I got the bacon,” Derek said, laying two perfectly fried strips of bacon on each bun. 

“We’ve got this round in the bag,” Stiles said, grinning. He placed the burgers on the buns and stood back as Derek scooped fries onto the plates and added the side salad. 

“And times up, step away from your stations,” Finstock said. 

Since there were only six restaurants left, Silver Platter presented much quicker than last time. Stiles had barely been paying attention to the other restaurants, but the next thing he knew, Kate was presenting. 

“We’ve prepared a classic beef burrito with Mexican rice and cheese,” Kate said. “On the side you’ll find re-fried beans and homemade tortilla chips. Enjoy.” 

“I’m just going to go out on a limb here and guess that you’re not Mexican,” Ms. Morrell said.

“No, I’m not,” Kate said, smiling. 

“Well, you should be,” Ms. Morrell said, smiling back. “Because this tastes like it came right out of an authentic Mexican taco shop. Everything about this plate is perfect. The burrito tastes delicious, the re-fried beans are superb and I’m in love with the tortilla chips.” 

“Thank you,” Kate said. 

“I have to agree,” Deaton said. “This is your strongest dish out of the three, and it’s one of the strongest I’ve eaten all day. Well done.” 

“If I had to rank this out of all the food I’ve had today, this would definitely be in the top three,” Ms. Blake said. “It’s just really well executed, I love the flavors in the burrito and it’s like you had this shipped right from Tijuana. It tastes that authentic and that good. Well done.” 

“Thank you,” Kate said. 

“Next up, Full Moon,” Finstock announced. 

“I don’t think you can do much better than that,” Kate hissed. 

“Watch us,” Stiles hissed back. 

“Chefs, please tell the judges what you have.” Finstock said. 

“It’s a classic,” Stiles said, smiling. “It’s a BBQ bacon cheeseburger with a side of handcut French fries and a small Caesar salad.” 

“Delicious,” Deaton said. “It’s absolutely delicious. You two have been so strong throughout this competition and I was afraid that you were going to have a let down with the final dish. I was wrong because everything about this is delicious. The burger is seasoned perfectly, it’s cooked perfectly and there’s a beautiful golden brown color on these fries. I feel honored to eat this.” 

“I know I just said that I would rank the burrito on the top three of everything I ate today, but this is top three as well,” Ms. Blake said. “It’s just incredible, because I’ve had countless cheeseburgers in my life, but this is without a doubt the best cheeseburger I’ve ever had.”

“I think they said everything I can think of,” Ms. Morrell said, smiling. “I’m just going to keep eating. Job well done.” 

“Thank you chefs,” Finstock said. “Please return to your stations. I will announce the final three restaurants momentarily.” 

“Dude, great job,” Stiles said, high-fiving Derek and then leaning in for a kiss. “Final round here we come.” Derek grinned and pulled Stiles into a tight hug.

“We’ll see you there,” Kate said, walking over to their station. 

“Looks like it,” Stiles said, detaching himself from Derek. He stood in front of Kate and extended his hand. “Good job today and good luck tonight, may be best restaurant win.” 

“Right,” Kate sneered, batting Stiles’ hand away. “Don’t try to be nice now. You’re going to lose. Might as well go down swinging. ” 

Stiles shrugged and walked back over to Derek, who wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist. 

Finstock cleared his throat and everyone turned to listen.

“Chefs, the three restaurants that are advancing to the final round later this evening are, Silver Platter Bar and Brewery, Beacon Hills Bar and Grill and Full Moon Steakhouse. Congratulations, chefs.” 

As the eliminated chefs packed their bags and exited the hall, Finstock continued speaking. 

“Chefs, the final round will take place later on tonight in the exhibition hall. It will be televised on the local channels, and San Francisco State requested that they allow their graduate media studies program to assist with the editing. In return, this years final round will be bigger and better than ever.” 

“Sweet,” Stiles whispered under his breath. 

“In addition, the final round will be conducted a little bit differently this year,” Finstock continued. “Since there are three restaurants competing instead of two, each restaurant will be responsible for creating a three course meal. In this meal, you must use the secret ingredient in at least one of the courses. Since we changed the rules at the last minute, we’ve decided to tell you the secret ingredient ahead of time.” 

Stiles held his breath in anticipation. 

“The secret ingredient for the final round is bacon. Good luck chefs and I will see you tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter should be up within the week!! It's a bacon showdown!
> 
> Any and all feedback is welcome!!


	15. Competition (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!

“You know what this means, right?” Stiles asked as he and Derek walked to the car. Since the final round wasn’t until eight that night, they had a couple hours to go home and relax. 

“Carbonara showdown?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. “And whatever Beacon Hills Bar and Grill decides to make?”

“You got it,” Stiles said, sliding into the Camaro and buckling his seatbelt. “And don’t even get me started on the other restaurant. They’re pretty much a non-factor in this whole thing. This is between me and Kate, battle of the carbonaras.” 

“What if Kate doesn’t make hers?” Derek asked as he drove out of the parking lot. “What if she makes something else?” 

“Then she might as well give the trophy to us,” Stiles said, folding his arms behind his head. “Because there’s no way that anything other than her carbonara stands a chance against mine.” 

“You’re pretty confident,” Derek said. “I was afraid that I would have to give you another pep talk in a bathroom stall.” 

“Are you kidding?” Stiles asked. “Dude, we made three _solid_ dishes today, and the judges loved all three of them. We’re totally the favorites to win this thing. And now that I know I have the chance to seal the deal with my carbonara, I honestly don’t see how we can lose.” 

“I can’t argue with that logic,” Derek said. “What do you want to do until tonight?”

“Sleep,” Stiles huffed. “I’m so exhausted. That was almost as bad as a Carbonara Monday during a dinner rush, and we only made three dishes. All I want to do now is take a shower and sleep until tonight.” 

“I think I could be persuaded to join you,” Derek said. “It’s been a long morning. I’m pretty tired, too.” 

“Take us home, oh head chef,” Stiles said. He closed his eyes and yawned. 

Today had been a pretty great day so far. Aside from the minor meltdown he’d had in the bathroom stall, he was pretty proud of himself and Derek for what they had accomplished this morning. The judges had loved just about everything they had made, and it looked like they now had a couple more things to add to the menu; Stiles was really proud of that salmon and the cheeseburger. 

“We’re here,” Derek said, pulling into the parking lot. 

“Mmmm,” Stiles hummed, getting out of the car and stretching. “Shower first, nap later.” 

“Sounds good,” Derek said, walking up the pathway to the apartment. He opened the door and let Stiles walk in first.

“What a morning,” Stiles said, collapsing onto the couch. He squirmed until he found a comfortable position. “I could fall asleep right here, to be honest.” 

Derek rolled his eyes and sat next to Stiles on the couch. He leaned in and gave Stiles a gentle kiss on the forehead. “You smell like grease,” he murmured, burying his nose in Stiles’ hair. “You need a shower.” 

“No,” Stiles whined. “Sleep here, shower later.” 

“Come on, Stiles,” Derek said gently. “You’ll feel better if you shower. And my bed is more comfortable than this couch.” 

“Fine,” Stiles mumbled. He rolled of the couch and trudged into the bathroom. He was so tired. He peeled off his clothes and stood in the shower for a good fifteen seconds before he realized that there was no water running.

“It might help if you turned the water on,” Derek said, stepping into the shower and turning on the water.

“Maybe,” Stiles said. “Probably. I dunno.” 

Derek chuckled softly and put some shampoo into Stiles’ hair. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “You were really great this morning.” 

“Mhmm,” Stiles murmured, humming softly as Derek massaged the shampoo into his scalp. 

“You’ve come so far since I first met you,” Derek said. He turned Stiles around and kissed the nape of his neck. “I remember yelling at you because you would do everything wrong and it would just irritate me so much. And now--” 

“And now we’re showering together,” Stiles finished, turning around and resting his forehead in the crook between Derek’s neck and shoulder. 

Derek laughed lowly and nudged Stiles’ head with his own. “I was going to say and now you’re winning Best Restaurant almost single-handedly. But you’re right, too.” 

“No, you helped too,” Stiles said, kissing Derek’s clavicle. “The judges loved your side dishes. And we haven’t won yet. We still have to get through the final round tonight. My carbonara still has to beat Kate’s. It probably will, but there’s a chance that hers might be better than mine.”

“Yours is better,” Derek said. He grabbed a bottle of body wash and squeezed some into his hand before rubbing it over Stiles’ body. “And on the very slim chance that the judges say otherwise, I’m really glad that you came to work for us.” 

“I’m glad I came to work for you too,” Stiles said, placing his hands on Derek’s chest. “Win or lose, but most likely win, I’m really glad that I’m here.” 

Derek smiled softly and kissed Stiles on the forehead. Stiles grinned and poked a dollop of suds onto Derek’s nose. “You know, when I first saw you, I called you Grumpy Eyebrows in my head,” Stiles said. 

“My eyebrows aren’t grumpy,” Derek said, frowning slightly. 

“They totally are,” Stiles said. “And they were super grumpy on the day of the cook-off. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere else in the world but at Full Moon that day.” 

“Probably because I did,” Derek said, smiling softly. “You try waking up at eight in the morning to try food that tastes disgusting. It’s not fun.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind when we have to have a cook-off to find our next sous-chef,” Stiles said, grinning. He found more soapsuds and tried to give Derek a soap mustache, but it didn’t really work. So he just kissed the suds right off Derek’s face. 

“We’re not getting anymore sous chefs,” Derek said when they broke apart. “We’re good the way we are.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to have another dashing young sous chef on our roster?” Stiles asked. “Have another specialty dish and special day? Maybe he makes really good lobster?”

“Nope,” Derek said, nuzzling Stiles’ neck under the water. “You’re good enough for me.” 

“I better be,” Stiles answered. 

“Hey,” Derek said, gently kissing the tendon in Stiles’ neck. 

“Hmm?” 

“I love you,” Derek said softly. 

“Wow,” Stiles murmured, tilting his head back to allow Derek easier access. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me.”

“I think so too,” Derek said. 

“Good thing the feeling’s mutual,” Stiles said, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck. “I love you, too.” 

After they had finished washing up and Derek had given Stiles one of the slowest and painstakingly thorough blowjobs Stiles had ever received, they made their way to Derek’s bed. 

“So, we should probably think of what we want to make for an appetizer and dessert,” Stiles said as Derek rested his head on Stiles’ chest. “I was thinking that you could do an appetizer sized portion of your strip steak, and then we could ask Jackson for his cheesecake recipe or something.” 

“I’m okay with the appetizer, but I’m a sucker for his red velvet cake,” Derek said. He traced a trail along Stiles’ moles with his finger, causing Stiles to shudder whenever he brushed along a sensitive area. 

“We’re allowed to borrow recipes from our fellow chefs, right?” Stiles asked. “Jackson works at Full Moon, and we’re representing Full Moon so it’s fine, right?” 

“We’ll be fine,” Derek answered. “We’ll still be the ones making the food, so it counts. I’ll text Jackson and ask for his recipe. But now, we sleep. We’ve got a big night ahead of us.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles said, yawning. He rubbed his eyes and fell asleep soon after.

***

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the fifth annual Beacon Hills Best Restaurant Awards. I’m Coach Finstock and I’ll be your emcee for the evening. We’ve got three amazing restaurants vying for the title of best restaurant in Beacon Hills, and I really wish I was a judge right now, because they’re going to get to taste some amazing food tonight.” 

Stiles stood by his station and watched as Finstock spoke into the camera. The final round was being held in the Exhibition Hall of the community center. The SFSU Film and Media Studies Department had shown up with all of their cameras and stands, and Stiles felt like he was on a low-budget TV show. He didn’t get to go through hair and make-up, but he still felt like a star as one of the graduate students held a camera in front of him and Derek. 

“And our final restaurant this evening is Full Moon Steakhouse,” Finstock said. “They’re represented by Head Chef Derek Hale and his sous chef, Stiles Stilinski and tonight they will be going for their unprecedented fifth title in a row.” 

Stiles smiled and waved at the camera and nudged Derek to do the same. Derek gave him a light glare when the camera was off them, but Stiles simply rolled his eyes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Here’s how tonight is going to work,” Finstock said into the camera. “There will be three rounds: appetizer, entrée and dessert. Each restaurant must complete each round in the given amount of time, and they must use the secret ingredient of bacon in at least one dish. The judges will score each dish based on taste, presentation and usage of the secret ingredient, if the secret ingredient is used in that particular dish. If the secret ingredient is used more than once, then the judges may award bonus points, should they choose. I’ll be answering your tweets up here and my partner, Adrian Harris will be on the floor talking to the chefs as they cook. 

“Now, chefs,” Finstock said, turning away from the camera. “Round one starts immediately. You will have thirty minutes to prepare an appetizer. Keep in mind that if you do not use bacon in this round, you must use it in either the entrée or dessert rounds. Your time starts now-- good luck.” 

Stiles watched as Derek dashed over to the fridge to grab the best cut of strip steak. It was highly unlikely that Silver Platter or BH Bar and Grill would be making strip steaks for an appetizer, but Stiles knew that Derek was a perfectionist when it came to making his strip steak. It either had to be perfect, or Derek would throw it out. 

Wanting to be helpful, Stiles grabbed a saucepan and preheated it, and then grabbed the spices that he knew Derek used for his steak. He had just finished putting oil in the pan when he turned around and found himself face to face with Mr. Harris and a camera. 

“So, Stiles, what are you and Derek going to be making?” Mr. Harris asked. 

“Umm, we’re making an appetizer-sized portion of Full Moon’s famous strip steak with a small side of sticky sweet rice,” Stiles answered. 

It was a little weird to have a microphone hanging above his head while he tried to cook, but he was glad that he was getting used to it now rather than when he had to make his carbonara. 

“Ah, that’s a favorite among the locals,” Mr. Harris said, nodding. 

“Yeah, we’re hoping the judges like it too,” Stiles said. 

Thankfully, Derek came running back to the station with his strip steaks in tow. Stiles helped Derek season them perfectly, while Mr. Harris and his cameraman went to interview BH Bar and Grill. 

“They look good,” Derek said. “Pan’s preheated?”

“Of course,” Stiles answered. “Do your thing.” 

Derek quickly kissed Stiles on the cheek before putting his steaks in the pan. Stiles dashed to the pantry to grab a cup of rice. He didn’t need a lot, since it was only an appetizer-sized portion. He returned to his station, threw the rice in the pot of water. He didn’t really have anything else to do, so he ran to the cabinet to grab plates. 

Kate was already there, grabbing plates of her own. 

“Plating already, Stiles?” Kate asked. “What are you making for your appetizer?”

“Something better than yours,” Stiles answered. “And spoiler alert, my carbonara is going to be better than yours, and our dessert is going to be better than yours. Hope the second place trophy looks pretty, because that’s all you’re going to be getting tonight.” 

Stiles winked and powerwalked back over to his station. Derek had finished cooking his steaks and was cutting them into thin strips. As always, Derek had cooked his steaks perfectly. There were a beautiful color and they were cooked medium well, so they still had a slight pink color on the inside. 

Stiles laid out plates and Derek began laying the steak strips on them. 

“How’s the rice?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s done,” Derek answered. “I took it off the heat for you.” 

“Two minutes chefs,” Finstock called. 

Stiles quickly ran to the fridge and grabbed milk and butter, while balancing a bag of sugar in his hands as well. He returned to his station and poured a little bit of milk into the rice, along with a small stick of butter and a couple spoonfuls of sugar. He stirred everything together until the milk, butter and sugar melted down into a glue of sorts, holding the rice together.

“Thirty seconds, chefs!”

Stiles and Derek took two spoons each and molded the rice into small balls and placed them on the side of the steaks. 

“And… time’s up! Please step away from your station.” 

Stiles watched as Kate, Chris and the BH Bar and Grill chefs stepped away from their dishes. It was pretty clear that the top three restaurants had advanced to the final round, because everyone’s appetizers looked delicious. Stiles would order every single one of them. 

Beacon Hills Bar and Grill presented first. 

“We’ve prepared jumbo shrimp wrapped in applewood smoked bacon,” the head chef said. “With a pineapple sauce with paprika and chili powder flakes. Enjoy.” 

“This is very good,” Deaton said around a mouthful of shrimp. “I like that you added bacon into this dish even though you didn’t have to.” 

“I agree,” Ms. Morrell said. “It’s very good. I like that the sauce works so well with the bacon, the paprika and chili powder flakes really make the sauce pop.” 

“I agree with everything they said,” Ms. Blake said. “I’m excited for what you’re going to make for the entrée round.” 

“Thank you,” the head chef said. He and his sous chef nodded their thanks before returning to the lineup. 

“Next up is Silver Platter Bar and Brewery,” Finstock said.

“Hi,” Kate said, smiling. “What you have in front of you are chicken salad lettuce wraps. Enjoy.”

“So, you made salmon salad in the preliminary rounds and I said that you used way too much dijonnaise. But you really turned it around with this dish,” Deaton said. “There’s just enough mayonnaise in the salad so it’s the right amount of mush to contrast with the crunch of the lettuce wraps. Well done.”

“I agree,” Ms. Blake said. “It’s delicious. What do you have in the chicken salad?” 

“There’s mayonnaise, zante currants, hard-boiled eggs, carrots, celery, garlic salt and some pepper,” Kate answered. 

“Delicious,” Ms. Blake said, nodding. 

“Thank you, chefs,” Finstock said. “Finally, Full Moon Steakhouse.” 

“We’ve prepared a thin sliced New York strip steak with a sweet rice ball,” Stiles said as Derek handed the judges their dish. “Please enjoy.” 

“I wish this wasn’t an appetizer,” Ms Blake said. “This strip steak is so good and I want so much more of it. Can I have yours?” she asked, turning to Deaton. Deaton laughed and shielded his steak with his fork. “It’s delicious,” Ms. Blake continued. “The steak is seasoned and cooked perfectly and I love the rice ball. It’s a nice addition to the appetizer so that it’s not all meat.” 

“I can see why this is a signature dish at your restaurant, because this is superb.” Ms. Morrell said. “It’s honestly one of the best cuts of steak I’ve ever had, and I think it was really smart for you to make an appetizer-sized portion of one of your most popular dishes to use as an appetizer. Delicious appetizer, and it makes me really excited for your entrée.” 

“Thank you chefs,” Finstock said. “Since there will be no elimination between rounds, the judges will tally up their scores while you begin the entrée round, which starts now. You will have forty-five minutes— good luck.” 

Stiles locked eyes with Kate. She smirked at him before leisurely walking to the pantry to get pasta noodles. Stiles took a step to follow her when he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He turned around and saw Derek looking at him. He offered a small smile, and Derek returned it with a thumbs-up. He gently head-butted Stiles’ forehead before returning to the station to set up a pot of water. Stiles took a deep breath and walked over to the pantry where Kate was waiting.

“Ready to have your carbonara beaten for the first time ever?” she asked, grinning predatorily. 

“No, not really,” Stiles answered. “How about you?” He rummaged through the pantry before finding his favorite brand of spaghetti noodles. 

“Not on your life, Stiles,” Kate sneered. “Hope you enjoyed your little run, because as soon as the judges taste my carbonara, you can go ahead and kiss your streak goodbye.” 

“We’ll see,” Stiles said as he started walking back towards his station. 

Derek had already grabbed the butter, whipping cream, and butter that Stiles would need to make his sauce.

“Do or die,” Stiles said as he got back to the station. 

“You can do it,” Derek said, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Oh, I know I can,” Stiles answered. He started pouring the cream and butter into a saucepan while Derek started frying the bacon. “I’m a better chef than Kate is. It’s just a matter of whether or not the judges will agree.” 

“I’m sure they will,” Derek agreed. 

“Doubt it!” Kate called from her station. 

Stiles was about to open his mouth to reply, but the next thing he knew, Mr. Harris and the cameraman were right back at his station.

“This is interesting,” Mr. Harris said. “Both Full Moon Steakhouse _and_ Silver Platter Bar and Brewery are making some sort of bacon pasta dish.” 

“It’s a carbonara,” Kate and Stiles answered in unison. Stiles looked over and Kate shot him a faux sweet smile before returning to her own sauce. “And mine’s better, by the way.”

“We’ll see about that,” Stiles said, focusing more on his sauce than Kate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Derek check the noodles to make sure that they were cooking properly.

“So, Kate,” Mr. Harris said, walking over to Kate’s station. “Tell us about your carbonara.” 

“Well it’s a Bacon Carbonara with a heavy cream sauce,” Kate said. “I started making it at the San Francisco Food Expo when I was in culinary school. I took it to the Expo one day, and I cleaned house. So I started tinkering with the recipe and now that I’ve perfected it, I’ve been making it ever since.”

“And what about you, Stiles?” Mr. Harris asked. 

“Actually, Kate’s carbonara inspired mine,” Stiles answered. “I was at the expo when she debuted her carbonara and I thought it was really good. And I told myself that one-day I wanted to be able to make a carbonara that good. Now, three years of culinary school later, and I’m making a carbonara that’s even better.” 

“Wow, Stiles, I had no idea you were there that day,” Kate said, smirking. “But there’s no way that your carbonara can beat mine. The remake is never as good as the original.” 

“Tell that to Brad Pitt, George Clooney and the rest of the cast of Ocean’s Eleven,” Stiles shot back. “But the judges are going to decide. So until then, why don’t you focus on making sure your carbonara is as good as it’s gonna get. Because even if it’s not going to beat mine, you should give yourself a chance.”

“Why you little--,” 

“Things are definitely heating up in the kitchen,” Mr. Harris chuckled. “Both literally and figuratively. I think it’s time we ask another twitter question: Whose carbonara do you think is better? Kate’s or Stiles’? Tweet your answers using the hashtag BHRAwards. We’ll read some of our favorites after the break.” 

As Mr. Harris and the cameraman walked away to take a break, Stiles focused on his carbonara sauce. He thought back to when he had made it for Laura during the cook-off and how nervous he had been that she wouldn’t like it. He thought about how excited he had been when Laura had told him that his carbonara was going to get its own special, and how proud he had felt when he had completed his first Carbonara Monday. He thought back to the time when he had walked Derek step-by-step though how to make the sauce, and how happy he had been that someone had actually wanted to learn to make it. 

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles asked. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to fucking win,” Stiles said. 

Derek smiled and went back to stirring the pasta noodles. Stiles was pretty sure Kate said something, but he didn’t really care what she had to say at this point. 

His pasta sauce was looking perfect. The butter had melted into the cream perfectly and Derek had just added a little bit of bacon grease for a little extra flavor. Derek took the bacon over to the food processor and processed it into little chunks to go in the sauce. Derek dumped the bacon pieces in the sauce and Stiles covered the saucepan with a lid to let the flavors simmer together. 

“Noodles are done,” Derek answered as he poured the noodles into a colander. 

“Perfect,” Stiles answered. “Let’s make garlic bread.” 

“Fifteen minutes, chefs,” Finstock called. 

Derek powerwalked over to the pantry and returned with a loaf of bread and some herbs.

Stiles grabbed a huge stick of leftover butter and nuked it the microwave. He handed it to Derek, who added some herbs and garlic to the mixture before slicing the bread open and brushing the mixture over it. Derek wrapped it in some foil and tossed it in the oven. 

There wasn’t much else to do but wait. The pasta was done, the sauce was simmering and the bread was baking. Normally Stiles would be starting on a lasagna or plating something, but there was nothing to do but wait around for everything to finish. 

“Chefs, we’ve got some pretty interesting responses to our twitter question,” Mr. Harris said. “Almost eighty-five percent of those tweeting in feel like Stiles has the better carbonara, and has the best chance of winning. We’re getting some pretty great tweets too.”

The look on Kate’s face was priceless.

“Stiles and Full Moon Carbonara for the win,” Mr. Harris read. “Go Stiles and Derek, Full Moon is awesome!” 

Stiles was so glad that he had nothing to do, because watching the various expressions fleet across Kate’s face was hilarious.

“Full Moon Carbonara is the best, and everyone knows it!” 

“I’m rooting for the underdog! Go Silver Platter!”

“Stiles, Derek and Full Moon for the win!”

“I don’t like carbonara, so I want Beacon Hills Bar and Grill to win!”

“Two minutes, chefs,” Finstock announced. 

Stiles checked his sauce, and it smelled great. He dipped a spoon in it, and it tasted even better. 

“Plating?” Derek asked. 

“Get ‘em,” Stiles said, grinning. 

Derek quickly returned with bowls and Stiles started spooning spaghetti noodles into them. Derek spooned the carbonara sauce on top of the noodles while Stiles cut up the bread and placed it around the edge of the bowl. 

“And, time’s up! Step away from your stations!” Finstock announced. “First up to present will be Beacon Hills Bar and Grill.”

“So, what you have in front of you is a bacon wrapped filet mignon,” the head chef said. “It’s paired with sautéed broccoli and buttery mashed potatoes. Enjoy.” 

“This is delicious,” Deaton said as he continued eating. “Really, well done. Anytime you wrap any kind of meat in bacon, you’re a good man in my book. The broccoli is sautéed perfectly and the mashed potatoes are really light and fluffy. The only thing I can really say is that mine is slightly undercooked. But other than that, well done.” 

“Actually, my filet mignon is cooked perfectly,” Ms. Morrell said. “I think maybe Deaton’s piece of meat was on the edge of the pan and didn’t get as much heat as mine, so maybe watch out for that in the future. But everything else is really well done. This is a very complete entrée course and I would definitely order it at your restaurant.”

“Next up, Silver Platter Bar and Brewery,” Finstock called, as the Beacon Hills Bar and Grill chefs returned to the line up. 

“This is Silver Platter’s Bacon Carbonara. You may have heard already, but it’s the original,” Kate said, smirking at Stiles over her shoulder. “Please enjoy.” 

“This is delicious, oh my goodness.” Ms. Blake said. “I can definitely see how this would be your go-to dish. Everything balances out quite nicely. The carbonara is just perfectly creamy and I _love_ the little chunks of bacon that are in it. It’s not traditional, but I don’t care at all. It’s delicious and I want more.” 

“So, you made me think you were Hispanic when you made the burrito,” Ms. Morrell said. “And now, I think you’re Italian because this is one of the best carbonaras I have ever had in my entire life. You should open a Silver Platter Pasta House, I guarantee it would probably put Olive Garden and Johnny Carino’s out of business. This is quality Italian food.” 

“Thank you so much,” Kate said, smiling. “That means a lot,” 

“I’m just going to say that this is delicious,” Deaton said, continuing to eat. “It’s wonderful, and I think that I will order it, the next time I eat at Silver Platter.” 

“Finally, Full Moon, please present your entrée,” Finstock said. 

“It’s futile,” Kate hissed as they passed each other. 

“Full Moon is the best, and everyone knows it” Stiles parroted, enjoying the way Kate’s face twisted with anger. 

“Hi,” Stiles said, standing before the judges. “This is Full Moon’s Creamy Bacon Carbonara with a side of garlic bread. Enjoy.” 

Stiles held his breath in anticipation as the judges took their first bites. 

“You said that Kate inspired you to make this carbonara?” Deaton asked.

“That’s correct,” Stiles said. “I tasted her carbonara at an expo and ever since that day I’ve wanted to make a carbonara even better than hers.” 

‘Well congratulations,” Deaton said. “You’ve succeeded. This is _delicious_. What’s in here?” 

Stiles let out a huge sigh of relief and told Deaton the step-by-step process of how he made his carbonara. He took a quick look over his shoulder and saw Kate shaking with anger. 

“Yeah, that is _superb_ ,” Deaton said. “I love how I can taste a hint of bacon in the sauce thanks to the bacon grease, and that there’s little chunks of bacon in the sauce, too. It’s the perfect amount of creamy and it’s just an all around wonderful dish. It is, without a doubt, the best thing I’ve eaten all day. Is there any chance I could get the recipe for this?” 

“No way,” Stiles said, grinning.” 

“So I have a bit of a problem,” Ms. Morrell said. “Because I just had Silver Platter’s carbonara, and it was delicious. But there’s something about your carbonara that just makes me want to eat it for the rest of my life. Every bite is like an explosion of flavor on my taste buds. I honestly could say that I would like to eat this for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the rest of my life. It is absolutely delicious.” 

“I agree,” Ms. Blake said. “I want more. I doubt that I would eat it every meal for the rest of my life,” she added, laughing. “But it is still a terrific dish. Everything about it works. And I know that the other judges really kind of ignored the bread because the carbonara was so good, but this homemade garlic butter spread is delicious. If I hadn’t just watched you make it, I would’ve sworn that you had this flown in from Italy. It tastes that good.” 

“Thank you judges,” Finstock said. Then he turned to the chefs. “Chefs, congratulations on making it this far. There is only one round left. You will have thirty minutes to make your dessert course. Since all of you used bacon, you don’t have to use it in your final dish if you don’t want to. Time starts now.” 

Stiles practically cartwheeled away to his station. He was elated. It had been close, but it looked like the judges had enjoyed his carbonara a little bit more than Kate’s. Stiles didn’t even care if he only won by one point. One point could be the difference between first place and second place. 

“Stiles. _Stiles!_ ,” Derek’s voice and hands on Stiles’ shoulders shook him out of his thoughts. “Hey, where are you right now?” 

“I don’t even know,” Stiles answered, grinning. “Dude, I just _won._ ” 

“I know,” Derek said, smiling softly and pressing his forehead to Stiles’. He cupped Stiles’ cheeks in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Congratulations. But if we don’t make red velvet cupcakes in the next thirty minutes, we might not win the whole thing.” 

“Right,” Stiles said, smiling sheepishly. He gave Derek another quick kiss and dashed over to the pantry to get his ingredients. 

Kate was waiting for him. 

“It’s not over,” she hissed. 

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Stiles said. “We beat you all through prelims, beat you in appetizers, and my carbonara just beat yours in entrée rounds. This round is literally icing on the cake. Good thing Derek and I are making cupcakes.” He smirked and returned to his station. 

“I want to do something with strawberries,” Derek said, coming back from the fridge with milk, eggs and strawberries. 

“Do what you want,” Stiles said, grinning. “Just make sure it tastes good.” 

They ended up making red velvet cupcakes with a strawberry cream cheese frosting. The cupcakes were a deep blood red, and the frosting was a pretty pink color. 

When Finstock called time, Stiles smeared frosting over Derek’s lips and kissed if off him.

“It’s over,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders.

“Mhmm,” Derek murmured into Stiles’ hair. “Let’s go seal the deal.” 

Beacon Hills Bar and Grill ended up making a bacon milkshake. The judges commended them for using bacon in all three of their entrees and the general consensus was that while none of them had ever had a bacon milkshake before, they would all try it again. 

Kate and Chris tried to pull a come-from-behind victory with a triple berry parfait. The judges liked it, but the reviews weren’t as glowing as they probably should’ve been if they wanted any hope of snatching the crown.

Derek’s and Stiles’ cupcakes, on the other hand, went over very well with the judges. The cupcakes were moist and rich and the judges really like the playful aspect of having cupcakes for dessert. 

“And now, the moment we’ve been waiting for,” Finstock announced, once the dessert round judging was over. 

All the chefs lined up, and Mr. Harris and his cameraman went down the line, getting close-ups of each of the chefs. 

“The scores from the preliminary rounds will be added to tonight’s scores. Out of a possible sixty points in the preliminary rounds, Beacon Hills Bar and Grill scored forty-nine points. Silver Platter Bar and Brewery scored fifty-three points. And Full Moon Steakhouse scored fifty-eight points.” 

Stiles reached down and grabbed Derek’s hand. They were so close. 

“And now the scores from tonight’s contest,” Finstock continued. “In the appetizer round, Beacon Hills’ jumbo shrimp scored eighteen points, Silver Platter’s chicken salad scored seventeen points, and Full Moon’s strip steak scored a perfect twenty points.” 

Stiles swelled with pride for Derek. In the craze with the carbonara, it was easy to forget that Derek still was responsible for Full Moon’s other specialty dish. Stiles was glad that the judges enjoyed it enough to give it full points. 

“In the entrée round,” Finstock called. “Beacon Hill’s filet mignon scored eighteen points, Silver Platter’s bacon carbonara scored nineteen points—“

Stiles held his breath in anticipation. 

“And Full Moon’s carbonara scored another perfect twenty points.” 

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned into Derek’s side. He exhaled deeply and smiled when he felt Derek squeeze his hand. He opened his eyes and cast a quick glance at Kate. Unsurprisingly, she refused to meet his eyes. 

“And in the dessert round, Beacon Hills scored nineteen points, but received three bonus points for using bacon in all three of their dishes. Silver Platter’s parfait scored eighteen points and Full Moon’s cupcakes completed the sweep with another perfect score of twenty points.” 

Stiles couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. It was done. All they needed was for Finstock to make it official.

“And now for the final standings,” Finstock announced. “We have a tie for second place, both Beacon Hills Bar and Grill and Silver Platter Bar and Brewery finished with a total of one hundred and seven points. Congratulations, chefs.” 

Stiles and Derek clapped, more for Beacon Hills Bar and Grill than for Kate and Chris, as the groups of chefs were announced. 

“And that means the winner of the Annual Beacon Hills Restaurant Awards for the unprecedented fifth year in a row, with a grand total of one hundred and eighteen points out of one hundred and twenty, is Full Moon Steakhouse!”

*** Ten Months Later ***

Ever since they had won their fifth restaurant award in a row, business had been booming. 

Like Jackson had predicted, they had all gotten healthy pay raises. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was because of the booming business, or because they had won five in row, but Stiles wasn’t complaining either way; extra money was extra money. 

Danny moved down from Oregon and in with Jackson. Laura ended up giving him a job as a waiter, and Danny quickly became one of the more popular waiters, along with Scott and Erica. Danny started showing up at the eight a.m. meetings and soon he was a stable part of the Full Moon team. 

Since they picked up Danny as an extra waiter, Erica started working alongside Boyd at the bar when she wasn’t working as a waitress. Between the two of them and their model good looks and excellent bartending skills, Laura briefly contemplated changing the name of the restaurant to Full Moon Bar and Steakhouse. 

Scott and Isaac went on their cruise to Vancouver. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Isaac returned with an engagement ring on his finger. The wedding was in four months, and they planned to have it catered, because there was no way Stiles was going to be in the kitchens while his best friends were getting married. 

As for Stiles, Laura promoted him to co-head chef. He and Derek had a great working dynamic, they both had signature dishes on the front page of the menus, and following the competition, they added two new special nights: Salmon Wednesdays and Bacon Cheeseburger Saturdays. They quickly became as popular as the Strip Steak Special and Carbonara Mondays. 

One day, Laura approached Stiles during a particularly busy Salmon Wednesday. 

“Hey, Stiles,” Laura said, leaning against the counter top.

“Hi,” Stiles said, not taking his eyes off the salmon he was brushing. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Laura said, taking some of her hair in her fingers and examining it for split ends. “I was just thinking that the awards are in a couple months.” 

“Yep,” Stiles answered as he started to plate. “We’re going to win six, don’t worry about it.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Laura said. “I was just thinking, it’s been about a year since you started working here, and since you’ve started working here we’ve added Danny and Boyd to our team and two new special nights.” 

“And Isaac and Scott got engaged,” Stiles added, arranging plates onto trays. “It’s been a big year.” 

“I know,” Laura said. “And I think maybe we should add another sous chef, you know, now that both you and Derek are head chefs.” 

“Where are you going with this, Laura?” Stiles asked slowly, handing the trays to Danny. 

“I think it’s time we had another cook off,” Laura said, smirking. “I put the ad in the paper already. We’ve already got fourteen chefs coming in Sunday morning. Bring Derek at eight a.m., sharp.” 

And that was the story of how, one year since he’d first set foot in Full Moon Steakhouse, Stiles was currently struggling to stay awake as he tasted the sixth of fourteen less than satisfactory dishes. 

“Okay,” Derek said. “This is probably is the worst baked chicken I have ever had in my life. It might actually be drier than the Sahara desert. I can’t believe you had the audacity to try and serve this to us.” 

Stiles yawned and leaned into Derek’s shoulder. _Welcome to Full Moon,_ he thought. _If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. 
> 
> It's over. 
> 
> First off, I'd like to thank my _wonderful_ beta, bookgodess15, for all the great stuff she's done with this. Seriously, this fic would be nowhere near as good if it wasn't for her help. I'm also very excited to be working with her in the future.
> 
> Second, I'd like to thank everyone who has read this, left a comment, left a kudos, shared this, whatever. That means a lot to me. I'm so glad that you enjoyed this. 
> 
> Thirdly, I'm starting to plan out my next fic. I'm thinking about sending our favorite boys on a gay werewolf singles cruise!! Lots of fun times! So look out for that in the future! 
> 
> Fourthly, If you really enjoyed this, don't forget to kudo/comment if you haven't already. It literally makes my day every time I see new messages in my inbox. :)
> 
> SEE YOU NEXT TIME!
> 
> **ETA 12/4: Where are all of you coming from?! Is this rec'ed somewhere?? I'm getting more feedback on this than what I'm writing now! Trolololololol :)**


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